Teacher of Man
by SleepingwithinWater
Summary: The first time Enjolras and Éponine meet, it is their wedding day. (arranged marriage AU)
1. The Bargain

_**A/N:**__ I'm not sure if anyone can tell, but I seem to enjoy a good old AU once in awhile. By now, darling Judy-BB probably hates me for coming up with the oddest ideas, but this isn't as far-fetched as __**Captured Doves **__is. ;) _

_**They Meet **__is over, and I needed something to work on for the summer because one fic isn't enough for me (ugh), so one day, it hit me: an arranged marriage AU. I've never seen anyone do this before, so I'm excited to- possibly- be the first. The logistics will be explained; don't worry. I'd really appreciate it if you left your opinions and all that jazz. _

_Also, as of right now, updates will come fairly frequently. I have written like.. ten or so chapters ahead. I think this will be my longest fic yet, so hold onto your pants. I plan on updating every Monday and Thursday; but that's only for now. _

_As always, enjoy. And a thank you to my darling love, Brittany, or __**insignificantramblings**__, for being a doll-babe and helping with this. Everyone should go check out her stories 'cause they're pretty kick-ass. _

_**Pairings: **__E/É; more to come_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing from Les Miserables, nor do I claim to.**_

* * *

_The Bargain_

Éponine Thénardier always had the habit of biting her fingernails down to the stub. In the end, her fingers would be sore and tender and she would regret her choice, but when the time came that her nails were once again longer, something would happen and off they would go. Once and a while, in a desperate attempt to stop, she would douse her fingers in the sauce of a pepper or in alcohol. Alcohol would always backfire, because, after all, it was alcohol; pepper sauce just didn't deter Éponine enough, but she would always try.

On one particular evening in the early months of 1831, Éponine found herself yet again painting her fingers in crushed peppers. She was awfully content, which was certainly odd for a woman in her situation. Sitting at one of the tables in her father's inn, Éponine also found herself humming a sad tune. Her good mood ended, though, when the door to the backroom slammed open and shook the inn's walls. Éponine set her fingers on the table, blowing slightly to urge along the drying. Her father stormed into the inn, her mother in tow. He looked particularly angry that evening; his already graying orange hair more prominent because his face was ashen white, his hands were bunched into fists so tight Éponine was scared his fists would pop right off.

Her hands shook as she quickly folded up her napkin full of treasures; she shoved the pouch into her pocket and smoothed down her hair. Though her life was bleak, Éponine was not scared; she was confident she would find a way out, and soon.

"Papa?" she said, wrinkling her nose when 'Parnasse made a pass for her waist; she shoved him away.

Thénardier turned around quickly, eyes wide with anger. "What, girl?!" His booming voice should have made Éponine at least flinch, but she hardly even blinked.

She swallowed. "Are you alright?"

Thénardier scoffed and placed his hands on his hips. "Do I look alright?" Éponine shook her head slowly. "Then don't ask silly questions," he growled. "Go find your sister!"

Éponine nodded and turned on her heel, bounding up the stairs. It was rare that Thénardier requested to see Azelma. He found her to be too much of a push-over, which often resulted in him being able to earn more money, but he was too ashamed of her to say so. If something had indeed gone wrong, which Éponine already figured, Azelma was either the root of the issue or the bargain. Éponine would do whatever she could to keep her little sister safe, but there was only so much power she had, as well.

Knocking on her sister's door, Éponine skirted inside. "'Zelma, wake up!" she whispered harshly, shaking her sister's shoulder. Azelma rolled over and covered her face with the crook of her elbow.

"Éponine? What is it?"

"Papa. He wants to speak with you."

This got her sister up and awake. "Papa wants to speak.. with.. me?" Éponine couldn't bear to look in 'Zelma's eyes; they would be shinning with affection and hope.

Éponine nodded and took her sister's wrist rather roughly. She could feel the uneasy air in the home, like always, but something was terribly different. Her mother had been awfully quiet; usually she was kicking up quite ruckus, too. If Éponine's father had lost something- the inn, his child- Éponine wasn't sure whether her mother would be relieved, angry, or down-right unaffected.

Down the stairs the two Thénardier sisters trudged, trying to rack their brains for some sort of explanation. They didn't expect to receive one, though, and they didn't. Standing behind their father in the tavern, Éponine twitched her nose, and held onto 'Zelma's wrist tighter. Thénardier was hardly paying attention when he daughters returned, but that was old news. He was purely entangled in what seemed to be a messy conversation with a well-dressed man.

Thénardier was just about the same height as the other man, but the latter held his shoulders more erect, whereas, Thénardier was constantly slumped over. The other man was impeccably dressed and his fingers flitted over the surface of one of the tables. Finding his finger to be coating in crumbs, dust, and other particles, he cringed and wiped his finger in a handkerchief.

The well-dressed man held up a hand to stop Thénardier mid-sentence. "We had a deal, Thénardier. I am a man of my word, and I expect you to hold your end of the bargain." he suddenly lowered his voice and leaned in closer. "You know this is wrong, but it _has _to be done!"

Thénardier looked as if he was struggling to find the words he wanted. Finally, he gave up, and slapped his hands on his thighs. A cruel smile graced his lips and Éponine pulled Azelma closer. Her father had "thrown Éponine to the dogs" many a time before. Azelma was merely a child; he wouldn't do such a thing to her. Would he?

"Azelma," Thénardier reached around grasped Azelma's shoulder, pulling her forward. "This is-"

The man held up his hand once more. "My name does not matter." He eyed 'Zelma over a few times, judging her.

Thénardier closed his eyes in irritation. He began again. "Azelma, this is your new father-in-law."

Éponine felt the world crash beneath her feet. He tongue turned to lead and her throat closed up. _Father-in-law? This bourgeois man?! _What had her father done? Acting purely on instinct, Éponine lurched forward and separated Azelma from the man and her father. She turned and faced Thénardier.

"What on earth are you talking about?" she growled.

Thénardier smirked and rubbed 'Zelma's shoulder; the girl was in too much shock to either pull away or lean in to her father's rare touch. He pointed to the man, who was looking rather impatient. "He bought 'Zelma."

This shouldn't have come as a shock to Éponine. He'd done much worse things in the past. Still, Éponine felt her eyebrows raise and her voice crack. "And.. and you let him?"

Thénardier shrugged, pushing Azelma forward; the man caught her wrist. "He seems to think the son of his is either playing for the other team; wants it clean out of him. So, he bought the kid a wife."

Éponine looked between the man, her struggling sister, and her father. "How did this come about?"

The man opened his mouth to interrupt her father, but the younger man wouldn't let it happen. "He's got a gambling problem, too." Thénardier grinned his yellow-toothed grin and the man across from him snarled. "Frequents here often, though _you _wouldn't notice. I heard about his problem when he was so drunk he couldn't figure what was up and what was down, or whether or not his ass was his face, or his face was his ass. I may have.. used it to my advantage."

Éponine took a deep breath. "You foul, foul man," she breathed.

Thénarider shrugged once again. "I've heard worse." He turned to the father-in-law. "Pay up!"

"No! Father, please! You can't do this. She's only a child!" Éponine found herself once again in between the two men. Her father looked as if he was about to strike her into next month.

"Out of the way, 'Ponine," he whispered. "You'll get it; I promise ya."

In a desperate attempt to save her sister from ruin and disparage, Éponine pushed the quivering and quiet Azelma out of the way. "I'll go. In her place." She felt her chest heaving.

Thénardier squinted and looked at the man. "If you want any grand-babies, 'Ponine'll give them to ya. She knows what to do." Éponine shut her eyes, as if to send away the words. It was true; she was not a virgin any longer. She'd hadn't been for years. It had been her father's fault, of course. He'd claimed they needed more, _more! _And thus, Éponine, at the tender age of thirteen, was shoved into the hands of an ugly little soldier. Sometimes, she still had dreams of all the men after that. It wasn't until her father found her to be "too tearful," that he finally allowed her to stop.

The man looked Éponine up and down a few times, like he had for Azelma. The girl in question was shaking her head, muttering, "No, 'Ponine. _Please_."

"Hush," Éponine threw her way.

The man reached for Éponine elbow, lifting it up. "You think you can fix my son?"

Éponine narrowed her eyes; her heart already cold toward her whole "new family." She'd go to hell before she gave them what they wanted. "Yes, _monsieur._" The word was drawn out and spat onto the floor. The man merely laughed.

"Yes. She'll do. You understand this transaction must be told to no one. We are, obviously, of a higher class." Éponine felt her father tense. "My son can not be seen marrying some gutter-rat, so we'll have to spruce her up a little; buy her some new dresses, fix that god-awful hair. Still, I _will _hunt you down and have you.. disposed of if word gets out." The man raised his eyebrow at Éponine's father.

Thénardier let go of Éponine's hand; she hadn't even realized he'd been holding it. It made her heart hurt all the more. "Wonderful! That'll be five thousand francs." He held out his hand and Éponine felt her mouth go dry. They'd be set for life.

The man whipped out the paper-money as if it were nothing and placed it into Thénardier's hand. Éponine had already figured the man was rich; who knew how much he had?! The man stared at Éponine as her father counted the money over and over.

"Get your things," he said.

"This is all I have."

"All the better. We'll get you new clothes sooner or later. Say goodbye then.. what was it?"

"_Éponine_."

His fingers flitted about as if he cared, though she knew he didn't. "Yes. Éponine. Thank you, Thénardier." He shook hands with her father. "I'm sure she'll work wonders on the boy."

Thénardier smiled shortly and then looked at Éponine. "Do me proud, girl." He tweaked her nose and then promptly left the room. Éponine's mother gave her a short hug and sloppy, over-dramatic kiss. Éponine turned to Azelma and pulled her so close the younger girl could feel the air leaving her.

All the same, she whispered into Éponine's chest, "You didn't have to do that."

"I did."

"I don't want you to go."

"I don't want to either, 'Zelma. But you have to take care of yourself. I don't know if I'll be able to get out or not. If I can, I'll find you, and we'll run away, like we've always planned." Éponine smiled and held Alzema's cheek in her palm. She pressed a short kiss to her forehead when she heard a rough, "Éponine!" behind her. "Time to go, butter-snout. I'll see you later." Éponine winked and gave her sister's hand a press, before turning on her heel and brushing out the the inn.


	2. Domaine d'Enjolras

_**A/N: **__HOLY COW! I never expected for there to be such a big response to this! Ugh. You're making my day here. Thank you so, so much; I sincerely hope you enjoy this story! I know I do. I'm sorry this chapter is a little shorter than I would have liked, but it ended on the note I thought was best. The chapters are usually considerably longer than this. _

_Drop me a note, baby-cakes! _

_Love, Jess_

_**Parings: **__E/É; more to come._

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing. **_

* * *

_Domaine d'Enjolras_

Éponine's mind was blank. There was no thought, nor emotion in her head or her heart. The man across from her was flipping absentmindedly through a notebook, sometimes writing little numbers or figures Éponine couldn't quite understand. She sighed heavily, hands neatly folding in her lap.

Keeping her eyes focused on the world outside, Éponine opened her mouth for the first time since they'd gotten into the carriage. "If I am to marry your son, _monsieur_, can I please be told his name?" Éponine laced her voice with courage and friendliness, but her eyes were cold and dead.

"Enjolras. Rogier Enjolras. He goes by Enjolras, though." The man lifted his eyes over the top of his reading glasses; the elder Enjolras, then, was before her, Éponine realized.

Éponine nodded. "_Merci. _And where are we going now?"

"To liven up your wardrobe, of course." As if it were common sense, the man laughed heartily. "You won't meet _petit _Enjolras until the wedding day, unfortunately. He's finishing his school exams; boards himself up when those days come around." _Monsieur _Enjolras shook his head, going back to his papers.

Éponine rubbed her forehead. _Petit Enjolras? Little Enjolras?! _What was that supposed to mean? The boy- _man_- was probably as ugly as a pig and as short as a toothpick. If _Monsieur _Enjolras was concerned about women not being attracted to his son, he should take a good long look in the mirror before he made the assumption his son could even be called attractive. They always said the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. And if the apple didn't fall far from _Monsieur _Enjolras' tree, then the old man had a sorry remark coming to him on her wedding day. Éponine wasn't a picky girl when it came to the men she bedded. She had to do what she had to do, after all. But if Éponine was to live, eat, and breath around the same man for the rest of her life, she at least wanted him to be _a little_ appealing.

The rest of the drive to the dress-makers was spent in silence. Éponine really didn't have enough time to think about her family, all the things she had left behind. Oddly enough, she wasn't that sad. She certainly would miss Azelma, but the girl was getting bigger, and she hoped her younger sister would soon be able to look out for herself. Éponine would _not_ miss her parents in any way shape or form; it was a weight off her shoulders to be out of the house, really. Now, she had to figure out a way to get out of the marriage and home to Azelma, then they'd be able to run. Éponine had an aunt in the very north of France. Maybe she'd let them in for awhile?

Suddenly, the cart lurched forward and Éponine gripped the handle bar to her right to keep from falling onto the floor. _Monsieur _Enjolras, unaffected, stood up and motioned her out of the carriage; he didn't even wait for her to get out before he went into the dress-makers.

_Great. Got a real low-life for a father-in-law_, she thought as she hopped down from the step.

Inside, the shop was dark and quiet. Several well-to-do women where browsing the rows of material. Some of them whispered when Éponine walked in, but by then, she was used to the stolen-glances and hushed voices. It didn't really bother her too much anymore.

_Monsieur _Enjolras stood at the front desk, speaking with the owners. He then turned around and pulled Éponine into a back room where a young girl and older man took her measurements and pulled and teased at her hair. She felt like a guinea pig. When it was finally all over, and Éponine had picked out many dress colors and patterns that she liked, _Monsieur _Enjolras dropped a large sack of money into the older man's hand, whisking Éponine away. The dresses would be ready by her wedding day, which was in two weeks. Until then, Éponine would stay in her section of the home, and not disturb _anyone_, particularly _Madame _Enjolras, who's "nerves were shaken."

Éponine didn't mind the coldness she received; it was better that way. Always had been, always would be. She prided herself on that. She could shut herself down, and not feel a thing for as long as she chose. It would certainly come in handy for the next few months. Éponine rubbed her forehead, letting the fresh air blow across her face. Her head was pounding; she needed to sleep away her troubles. _If only, _she thought, trying not to think of _Monsieur _Enjolras lecturing her about dos and don'ts.

* * *

The bread jostled around in Éponine's basket as she walked down the street. It wasn't really necessary that she buy it, but all the same, Éponine usually volunteered to go out and buy whatever Chef Vipond wished. She and the middle-aged gentleman got along very well; in fact, Éponine would say he was her only friend at the moment. Unlike Adoulf, Enjolras' valet, or Evelene, who would soon become Éponine's lady's maid, who never once paid Éponine any mind, Vipond and Éponine often talked late into the night over freshly baked tarts and creams.

Éponine couldn't wait until the day she could set Evelene straight. The mousy little girl was nearing her thirties rapidly and every time she would pass Éponine in the hall, she'd give the girl a once-over, huff, and stalk away, brooms and buckets bustling over in her hands. Adoulf was younger, stupid, and a down-right pain in the ass. He was always telling Éponine what to do and what not to do, only when he did think he needed to speak to her, which was rare.

Honestly, the Enjolras household was already getting on Éponine's nerves and she'd not yet become officially installed into it.

As she rounded the corner that would bring her to the waiting carriage, Éponine ran full force into a man whose nose was pressed clean into a book. The things in her basket went flying onto the ground and Éponine cursed under her breath, pulling up the dark gray skirt so she could drop down and pick up whatever was salvageable. (Éponine had been ordered by _Monsieur _Enjolras to get rid of her "brown, ratty thing" and replace it with "nice, respectable clothes found in the closet.") The man who'd run into her, gasped and dropped to his knees beside her, hands scrambling to pick up the apples before they were trampled. Finally, they were able to get mostly everything. Éponine stood back up with a huff and the flip of her hair. The man stood up as well. Éponine couldn't help but take a step back, for he was surprisingly tall.

"Goodness, _mademoiselle_. I am dreadfully sorry." His cheeks were stained red and his hair was the color of his cheeks. He dressed horribly and Éponine felt a chuckle bubble in her chest. All the same, he resembled a recently-scolded puppy and she really wanted to give him a cookie to cheer him up.

"_Non, monsieur. _The fault was mine."

"On the contrary, I was reading when I should have been paying attention."

Éponine smiled slightly before moving to leave. "Well, thank you for your help. Have a good day."

The man caught her wrist just as she stepped into the carriage; Éponine rolled her eyes. "Before you go, what is your name? You have such lovely complexion. I'd like to write about it."

Éponine laughed. "My name is.. Éponine."

The man bowed lightly. "Well, Éponine, I am Jehan Prouvaire. It was a pleasure meeting you." He tipped the brim of his hat and waved, before walking off.

Éponine shook her head and sat down in the carriage, hitting the top so the driver would go off. _Jehan Prouvaire. Funny. Where have I seen that name before? _

* * *

It was during dinner with Vipond that Éponine remembered. She soon felt her feet flying through the halls of the top floor of Enjolras Estate. It wasn't really a clever name, and she'd said so to Vipond the first day she arrived. The man had merely chuckled, nodding his head. He had then said that the master wasn't all too creative and his wife didn't give a damn.

During that day, Éponine had stumbled across the library. Well, one of the three. This one was cornered off and full of books Éponine assumed Enjolras used for his schoolwork. She'd been flipping through a packet when she saw Jehan's name. It was scrawled along a margin along with many others; only surnames, of course.

_Combeferre. Courfeyrac. Feuilly. Bahroel. _And so on.

Now, Éponine wanted a closer look. Opening the door to to library, she slid inside, a devious smile on her face. She always liked being sneaky; it made her feel alive.

Inside of the large library, bookshelves scaled the walls to the top of the ten foot ceiling. There were several couches in the room, and one large desk faced the picture window on the farthest wall. It was quaint and Éponine smiled even wider. She would have to come and find a book to read herself. Lying where she'd left it several days before, was the journal with the names on the side. Slowly, she opened it to the first page. _R__évolution de Juin _was written in large, elegant letters on the first page. On the following pages were notes in different handwritings about problems, people, and things displeasing in France. There was also one page about the benefits of alcohol and breasts, but somehow, Éponine felt that that wasn't supposed to be in there.

She was about to start reading an entry on the people within the group, self-proclaimed _Les Amis de l'ABC_, when footsteps sounded outside the door. Éponine cursed and flung herself behind the desk. The door opened and she slid behind it, wishing she could press herself fully into the wood. There were then the sounds of books being thrown onto the floor, and several grunts. Éponine couldn't tell it there were one or two people in the room; she guessed one since it was so quiet. Realizing that it might be Enjolras, Éponine felt her heart beat even faster; this was her chance. This was her chance to see her fate.

Moving slightly and peering over the top of the desk, Éponine cursed the globe in the way. She couldn't see who it was; his back was to her, but it was certainly a nice back. Also, a head of blond curls. After that, Éponine could see or hear nothing from the man. She fell back behind the desk and crossed her arms, sulking.

After what felt like ages, she finally heard the door open and close again, and the sound of retreating footsteps. Breathing a sigh of relief, she stood up and stretched her aching legs. Quickly, she left the room, but not before stealing a glance at the thick, red jacket laid across the back of the couch.

She rolled her eyes. She already hated him and they hadn't even met.


	3. The Sun and The Son

_**A/N: **__I normally don't do this kinda thing because it takes a lot of time and all that jazz, but because I love you I will. ;) _

_**childofthe90'shpgeek: **__Ugh! I know; I want them to meet, too! You've just gotta hold onto your buttons and wait a few more chapters. I promise you then when they do, it's interesting._

_**RainWillMakeTheFlowersGrow: **__Thank you so much! I really wanted this to be as realistic as possible, so that means a lot. _

_**Britttttttt (that's what I'm calling you now): **__Guilty as charged. Jehan is my favorite, besides Enjolras. _

_**Unicorn24601: **__He does have a fabulous ass, right?!_

_**15YearOldSinger: **__Thank you so much, darling!_

_**Guest(s): **__Thank you! I hope you both continue reading!_

_I will attempt to do this sort of thing every once and awhile. I know it feels awesome when the writer talks to you; it makes me feel all warm. Haha. _

_**Pairings: **__E/__É; more to come_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

* * *

_The Sun and The Son_

_Monsieur _Enjolras stormed into his wife's chambers and threw open the curtains without much thought about her. She cursed him and rolled over in bed, pulling the covers over her graying head.

"Up, Lindy, sweet! Up!"

_Madame _Enjolras sighed and pulled herself up, like her husband requested. "What is it, Bertrand? Why, it's not even ten o'clock!" She groaned and covered her face in her hands.

Bertrand smiled triumphantly, standing at the foot of her bed. "_Oui. _To be exact, it is eight forty-five on a Tuesday morning. The birds are chirping and _petit __déjeuner_is waiting for you downstairs." He lightly patted her exposed ankle. "Get a move on, Lindy! The world won't wait for you."

* * *

By the time _Madame _Enjolras finally made her appearance in the dinning hall, her food was cold and Bertrand had already had it replaced with something more fresh. Lindy entered the room with a huff and sat down at the opposite end of the incredibly long table, her fingers drumming on the table. Bertrand never once looked up from his letters; Lindy found herself looking at her empty plate in sadness. Still, when Vipond entered the room, she did her best to make conversation with her "darling" husband.

"_Alor, _Bertrand, where is Rogier?" Unlike Bertrand, Lindy refused to call Enjolras by any other name than his given birth name.

Bertrand still didn't look up from the papers before him. "Upstairs, I expect. He has his last finals today and tomorrow."

Lindy nodded, swallowing some of her melon. "And why, pray tell, did you wake me up at this ungodly hour?"

Bertrand finally looked up. "You need to heal, Lindy. Staying in bed, shut up, in dark rooms, will not let you heal," he said the words through clenched teeth and Lindy winced.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She looked back at her plate.

Bertrand closed his eyes and gripped his fork in his hand tightly. "Lindy, Clemence is gone; she always will be, and even if she tries to come back, _I will not have it!_"

Lindy raised her napkin to her mouth to muffle the sob that tried to force its way out. The door opened and both adults froze, fearing it to be their son. Instead, Éponine walked in, a shy smile on her face. Lindy glared at Bertrand.

"Who is this?" she demanded; Éponine groaned internally.

Bertrand sighed and set his fork down carefully. "This is Éponine, darling. She's to become Enjolras' wife next week."

"Why didn't you tell me of this?!"

"I did," he ground out. "You just weren't paying attention."

Lindy's eyes widened and she turned back to Éponine with a sickeningly-sweet grin. "Ah, Éponine! How could I forget? Please, please, come and sit down."

Éponine sighed and braced her shoulder, walking swiftly past Bertrand to settle beside Lindy. It was the first time the two women had ever come in contact, and Éponine already disliked her. Lindy smiled at Éponine once more before turning to the door in the back, barking, "Vipond! Get Éponine some breakfast!"

Éponine stared at the brown wood before her, hoping her cheeks weren't flushed. Vipond rushed inside and set a plate before Éponine; she gave him an encouraging smile before he darted back to the kitchens.

Lindy turned back to Éponine. "Now, my dear," she said quietly. "Have your dresses arrived, because the one you're wearing now is certainly not yours."

Éponine blanched and stole a glance at the grimacing Bertrand. "_Non, madame. _They have not, but they are scheduled to arrive tomorrow. I'm.. I'm terribly sorry if my wearing of these clothes have offended you. _Mon-Monsieur _Enjolras told me to wear whatever I could find in the room I'm.. put up in." With one pointed look at Bertrand and another at Lindy, Éponine immediately regretted her words.

Lindy stared at her husband as she plastered a tight-lipped smile on her face. "What room is that, dear?"

"The one on the south end of the house. It's purple, if.. if that makes any difference?"

"Oh, it certainly does. Thank you for telling me." Lindy looked at Éponine and then stood slowly. "Bertrand, you may have healed, but putting this whore up inside of my Clemence's room is the last straw! I ask you to remove her _at once. _I don't care what you think she can do for Rogier. He is different from the others, and we have to learn to live with that! I want her gone by sundown." She quickly left the room with a slam of the door; Éponine jumped for the first time in ages, feeling her heart-beat quickly. _So that is my mother-in-law. Dear God, the horror stories were true._

The room remained silent until Bertrand cleared his throat. "You'll have to forgive her for the door slam; she's.. ill." Éponine noticed how he didn't apologize for the words that burned her ears. She'd been called a _whore _before, but if that was how she was perceived in the Enjolras household, then it gave her all the more reason to find a way to leave. Éponine only nodded then.

"I forgot to tell you something about my son." Éponine's ears perked up. _Was he mute? Deaf? Blind? A utter idiot? _"He does not know that I have a wife set up for him."

Éponine felt bile rise in her throat. _Dear God Almighty, was the floor really spinning like that?_

"I plan on telling him tonight, or maybe tomorrow," he continued. "I suggest you stay out of sight and sound until the day of the wedding."

Éponine nodded again. "Yes, sir."

"Enjolras will not hurt you," Bertrand said carefully. "But he is a force to be reckoned with. Never under estimate that. He will bring you up so high, only to let you drop and crash."

The girl swallowed and pushed back from the table. "Thank you, _monsieur. _I think I will take a walk now, if you don't mind?"

"Go on."

* * *

Enjolras Estate had extensive gardens, like any rich person home might. In the garden, there was a small gazebo put between a tiny pond and, what Éponine assumed could be, a shed. When one sat in the gazebo, they could easily see the entire estate in its full majesty. Éponine hated it, though she did admit it was quiet beautiful.

In the days since she'd arrived, Éponine had always found herself in the gazebo, reading from the books on the bookshelves in her - _Clemence's - _room, or from Enjolras' own library. She hoped he didn't notice the ones that were missing. She also had run across a grey cat which she'd decided to call 'Zel, after her sister.

The breeze flitted over Éponine's hot face and she leaned back onto the bench, throwing an arm over her face. The skirt of her gray dress pulled up over what was proper, but she hardly cared; no one would be in the garden anyway. That was, until she heard the whistling tune. Éponine sat up, praying reverently it wasn't Enjolras.

Instead, Vipond walked around the corner of the boat house, holding a plate of vanilla cake. Éponine almost cried with relief.

"Vipond," she breathed, clutching her chest. "I was so worried it was someone else."

The man shrugged and plopped down beside her, handing her the cake. "Here. I thought you could use some cheering up."

Éponine smiled gratefully at him, digging into the cake. "Thanks," she mumbled.

After a moment, she felt him elbow her side. "He's not all bad, you know."

"Enjolras?"

Vipond nodded. "Rogier may be rough around the edges, but he has a heart of gold, most of the time."

Éponine found herself chuckling, despite how she felt. "Is he ugly?" The question sounded so shallow, but she couldn't help but ask. Vipond would tell her the truth; she knew it.

The man thought about it for a moment. "I really can't be the judge of that."

Éponine rolled her eyes and shoved the empty plate back into his hands. "Fine then. Is he.. you know?"

"Homosexual?"

"Yes.."

"No."

She felt relief flood into her. "Good."

"Bertrand only thinks he is because Enjolras has never really looked at a woman in his life."

Éponine laughed, smiling. "Who is Clemence?"

"You mean, who _was_?"

"Was?!"

Vipond nodded and leaned back, crossing his ankles. "Enjolras' elder sister by three years. _Madame _loved her so much, much more than she loves Enjolras. One day, Clemence came home with a young man by the name of.. Oh. What was it? Simon Weller! That's who it was! Simon was from Germany, and of the upmost blue-blood. You would think Bertrand would have been happy. He wasn't and told Clemence if she married Simon, she could never return home. Clemence left the next morning with Simon and never returned. It was all about three years ago, and Lindy has never been the same.."

Éponine didn't know what to say, so she kept her mouth shut.

Vipond patted her leg and stood up. "Don't worry, Éponine. It won't be that bad, you'll see."

* * *

The café was a buzz with soft whispers. All of _Les Amis _were anxiously awaiting Enjolras' return. He was finishing his exams, and when he came back, things could finally start getting back to normal. For the past few weeks, Enjolras had been moody, tired, and a pain in the ass. When Courfeyrac brought this to light, Grantaire merely said with a swig of his drink, "He's always like that."

Jehan stopped reading his latest poem when he heard the door open. All heads looked up and to the door. Enjolras staggered in, obviously beat.

"I'm done," he whispered hoarsely, falling into the nearest chair.

Suddenly, loud cheers and bad-renditions of songs broke out; Enjolras groaned and banged his head on the table. Everyone else had already finished their finals and now that _everyone _was done, the planning could resume. Combeferre slid next to his friend, patting his back, handing him a bottle.

"Drink then, my friend. You deserve it!"

Courfeyrac nodded and took a place beside Grantaire. "You certainly do! In fact, I could go get Rosemary and you could have your way with her; she's mighty fine." He wiggled his eyebrows and laughed heartily. Grantaire laughed along with him.

Enjolras rolled his eyes and rubbed his temples. "I really just want to sleep."

"Then go home," 'Ferre whispered. "Don't worry about them."

Enjolras smiled at his friend and shook his hand before skirting out of the café. The evening air did wonders for the soul, and Enjolras opted to walk home. It wasn't that far, and he could effectively clear his head and prepare for the bombardment of questions his father would surely ask him. Enjolras sorely wished his mother would be there to greet him at the door, but he know too well she would not be. The only time his mother spoke to him was when she told him to tuck in his shirt.

The walk continued on blissfully and all too soon Enjolras was faced with the imposing doors of his home. Before he could turn the knob, though, the door flung open and behind it stood his mother. Enjolras' heart clenched, ready for the worst.

"Rogier!" she exclaimed, ushering him inside. "I was getting worried." She brushed down some of his curls as he shrugged off his jacket.

"Good evening, _Maman._" He lightly kissed her cheek.

"How were your tests?" She lead him into the drawing room, where his father waited.

"They were fine." He stared at her. What was going on? "Is everything alright?"

Lindy looked shocked. "Of course! How silly of you to ask, dear."

Enjolras shared a look with his father, who sighed. "Sit down, Enjolras."

"Rogier," his mother growled, taking a seat beside her husband. Enjolras rolled his eyes; she would never win that fight.

"We have something to tell you," Bertrand straightened up in his seat, fixing his waistcoat.

"What is it?" If they were pregnant, Enjolras would blow his top. And if this was about Clemence, his heart would shatter and bury itself in his stomach.

Never one to beat around the bush, Bertrand stared straight into his only son's eyes, leaning forward in his seat. "I have a wife for you."

* * *

_I must make it abundantly clear that the revolution will be a part of this story. Just not yet. ;)_


	4. Plato and Girls

_**A/N: **__I know! I know! They still haven't met. I hate it as much as you. But, I want this to be realistic, not choppy and rushed. I want this story to last! In any case, I will tell you if you're getting impatient, that Enjolras and __É__ponine meet in chapter 6! Now you have something to look forward to. _

_**Pairings: **__E/__É; more to come_

_**Disclaimer: I own diddly-squat.**_

* * *

_Plato and Girls_

Enjolras could feel his tongue swell up and his heart beat faster than his family doctor would have approved of. His fingers curled around the chair arms, and he was sure his face was as red as a beet. Slowly, he closed his eyes and then reopened them.

"Father, I must protest," he said, surprised his voice sounded so calm.

"I'm sure you must," Bertrand replied.

Enjolras ignored his father and scooted closer to the edge of the over-sized chair in which he was sitting. "I am in no need of a wife, and I do not see why you have.. picked one for me. It was a completely unnecessary action, and I do not plan to go through with the nuptials. It is of no secret to you that-"

Bertrand sighed loudly and held up his hand. "Give it a rest, will you, Enjolras? Cut all the proper nonsense, and tell me what you really feel!"

Enjolras, rather taken aback, quietly righted himself and cleared his throat. And suddenly, his mind was blank. He had always taken his time with his words, piecing them together eloquently and smoothly in his mind before saying them. Often, in order to convey on single idea, it would taken ten minutes or more. His friends would become irritated very quickly and ask him to, "Spit it out," but he would just smile and continue on at his normal pace. His father's outburst was yet another sign of the giant elephant in the room: his parents would never understand him, even if they tried.

"Alright, _fine. _I will not marry whomever you have chosen for me. I do not intend on marrying in my life, Father. I'm sure you know this..."

Bertrand scoffed. "I knew you would object, but that hardly matters. As long as you live under my roof, you live under my rules and my actions. You _will _marry the girl I chose, and you _will _be at the church this Friday. I intended on giving you a week to let the idea settle in, but because of your ungratefulness, I'll just move it up." The old man sighed and waved a hand at the door. "Now go. I.. I don't want to see you."

Enjolras frowned deeply, about ready to lurch across the room and choke his father with his own hands. Slowly, he stood up and left the room, slamming the door behind him. He waited for a moment outside of the door, and soon he could hear his mother's faint sobs and his father yelling at her, it was then when he chose to leave, feeling helpless and more angry than he'd ever been in his life.

* * *

The grass was slightly damp on the knees of Enjolras' trousers, but he didn't mind; in fact, he welcomed the feeling. It felt good to _feel _something other than the pain from his parents or the stress of the revolution for once. He clicked his tongue and motioned his fingers so Plato, the little grey cat, would walk closer to him. Once he was up in Enjolras' arms, the man hopped up onto the gazebo and sat down, stretching out his legs. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the rhythm of his fingers in Plato's fur. He had first found the cat in one of the large green hedges near the gazebo. The poor little thing was curled up, shivering in the winter air. Enjolras had felt a deep sadness for the cat, sometimes feeling the same as the feline did then: alone, cold, afraid. Enjolras was ten years old at the time, and while Plato did not live within the Estate, he freely roamed the grounds, never leaving. (Sometimes, Enjolras would sneak him in at night to sleep by his fireplace, and Vipond would give him the leftover scraps.) It was amazing what Plato did for Rogier, and he was thankful for the company he knew would never leave.

"_Monsieur? Monsieur!_" The harsh whispers broke Enjolras out of his rhythm. He sat up straight, causing his cat to bound away. Looking around, he stifled a gasp. It was dark out, very dark out. Had he fallen asleep? After all, he was _very _tired.

Through the dark, he squinted his eyes. "Vipond?"

"_Oui, monsieur. _Come. It is time for you to go back inside." The older gentlemen waved Enjolras off the gazebo. "Your mother has been worried about you."

"I'm sure," Enjolras scoffed.

Vipond sighed. "I know you don't believe me, but your mother cares for you; she just shows it in a different way."

"By not speaking to me?" Enjolras shook his head. "No. Tonight was the first time she greeted me in weeks."

There was a silence. If Vipond was anything, he was Enjolras' confidant. The man had practically raised Enjolras, since his father was too busy running the law firm, his mother always off with Clemence. Enjolras had spent most of his early childhood in the kitchens, learning from Vipond, before he was ushered off to learn from his tutors. Then came university, and Enjolras rarely was able to make it downstairs without thinking of yet _another _thing he had to accomplish. Still, Vipond was Enjolras' closest friend. The young man considered him an uncle; the one who always sneaked his nephew treats, or just sat and talked with him.

"What are you going to do?" Vipond changed the subject. Enjolras' parents were touchy for the boy. The marriage seemed like the only thing to talk about at the time, though. It was of the up-most importance in Vipond's eyes. He knew Éponine was a good girl, but there was no doubt in his mind that the two would butt heads instantly, and never go through with the marriage. That would send Éponine back home, and Vipond could not allow that. He'd heard her stories; sometimes they gave him nightmares.

"Not marry the girl."

Vipond shook his head and pulled the back door open, following Enjolras into the desolate kitchen. He pulled out some of the leftover dinner and heated it up before placing it before his friend. "You realize that you have to."

Enjolras pushed his veal around. With a defeated sigh, he nodded. "Yes.."

"I'm sorry, Enjolras. I wish it could be different for you."

"She's probably dull."

Vipond couldn't help but smirk and swallow his laughter. Éponine was anything but boring. Enjolras would have a nice surprise his wedding day. Vipond figured he could tell the lad she was in the house, but Bertrand would not approve. He hadn't seen hide nor tail of Éponine in the past few days, except at dinner. Lindy must have said something.. He would find out later, but at the moment, Vipond needed to discreetly help Enjolras realize what he was getting into.

"She's anything but boring, Enjolras." Vipond smiled and Enjolras rolled his eyes.

"How would you know?"

The cook shrugged. "Just trying to help, son."

With a mouthful of meal and potatoes, Enjolras admitted to his fears. "All women in this society are boring, Vipond! Do you remember Vanessa? How could you forget! She was the dullest thing I've ever come across. She could only droll on and on about dresses, and her _mother._"

Vipond leaned on his elbows. "I must remind you, too, that she was quite ravishing."

"I hadn't noticed."

"No. You wouldn't.." Vipond smiled sadly. "Think it all over. If you absolutely cannot go through with this, I will help you find a way out."

Enjolras looked up. "Really?" The man nodded and Enjolras slid out from his seat. "I have one more question. Why is he doing this?"

Vipond took the dirty plate into his hands and shrugged. "I'm really not sure. I think your father is scared he will have no one to leave anything to. Or maybe he doesn't want you to be lonely, like he is."

Enjolras rolled his eyes. "I hardly think that is the case. But I will pry it out of him, be in no doubt." He bounded up the stairs to the foyer and then up to his room. Vipond, left behind to his thoughts, sighed. If Enjolras ever found out his father bought the girl because of his assumptions about his son, and he was drunk off his ass at the time, Enjolras would be crushed. No. Vipond had to keep Enjolras in the dark.

* * *

Éponine heard a light scratching on her door. Hopping off her wide windowsill, she opened the door to find 'Zel scamper in and twine around her feet. Smiling, she bent down and picked up the cat. She smelled of the outdoors and faintly of paper. Éponine frowned slightly. That was certainly different.

"Where've you been, little one?" Éponine asked quietly. "Outside? Have you been with a man?!" Éponine laughed and sat back down on the windowsill.

After Lindy had called her a whore and Éponine had spoken with Vipond about her future husband, Éponine had quickly and quietly moved her room. She had kept the clothes, of course, they were the only ones she had. Hopefully, her new ones would arrive soon. She felt wrong being in Clemence's room, so she'd found another, farther away from the rest of the house. It was tucked well behind a corner and looked out over the long drive that lead to the city. Enjolras Estate was hidden from the main road, so Éponine had to be content looking at the trees and the occasional person who walked up the door.

She was content to be alone, but she did feel the beginnings of loneliness. She hadn't dared venture downstairs during the day for fear of bumping into _any _of the Enjolras family. Éponine was really starting to miss Vipond and the way he always smelled of beer. Éponine was also missing her sister. Day and night she wracked her brain for a plausible way to get out of this marriage. So far, she'd come up short. The only idea she had was faking her own death and then scampering away. She'd done it before for a job or two, but she didn't have the right materials.

Éponine knew in the back of her mind that she would have to go through with this. But maybe Enjolras was kind; maybe he wasn't the way Bertrand had painted him. Maybe he didn't want this either. She hoped he would let her go eventually. Once again, a noise came from outside Éponine's door, but she had 'Zel in her arms. Was there another cat? Probably not. Slowly, Éponine pressed her ear against the wood. When someone knocked rather suddenly, she stifled a cry and flew back.

Finding her voice, she called, "Who's there?"

"It's only me!"

Vipond.

Éponine threw the cat onto her bed and opened the door, staring at the food on the plate he extended. Had she forgotten to eat again? When Lindy had come up and the two had met in the hall, rather awkwardly, Éponine had been informed that the wedding date was moved to Friday. That gave her two days to get out of it, or buckle down and live with it.

"Come in, come in!"

Vipond shook his head. "I've got much to do, darling. But I knew you forgot about your dinner." Éponine took the plate with a smile and stepped aside; Vipond glanced at the cat on the bed. "I see you've made friends with Plato."

Éponine frowned, swallowing. "Plato? Who's Plato? That's 'Zel."

The man pointed to the cat, currently cleaning itself. "Plato, the cat. He's Enjolras'. Has been since Enjolras was little. Mind you, his parents don't know, so keep it hush hush." He winked.

Éponine blinked several times. "Plato is a boy?"

Vipond laughed heartily. "Yes. Plato is a boy. Enjoy the food, Éponine. And sleep well. Your clothes arrive tomorrow, and I think Lindy is insisting on taking you wedding dress shopping, so prepare. It won't be fun."

Éponine smiled slightly. "Thank you. Oh, and Vipond, how do you know all this?"

Vipond turned around at the stairs and winked. "I'm a chef; I'm obligated to know everything, and plus, Lindy's voice is so squeaky and high, you can hear it all the way in China." Éponine laughed and shook her head, closing the door and finishing her plate.

If Lindy was to take her shopping, it would be one interesting day, and Éponine would surely need to bite her tongue.

* * *

The next morning, bright and early, there was a sharp knock on her door. Éponine, startled, flew out and grabbed the silk robe she'd found in the closet. She pulled it around herself and brushed a hand through her dark, soft hair.

"Éponine!" _Oh, God. Lindy. _"Éponine! Hurry up and get dressed. We're leaving in twenty minutes to find you a dress."

Éponine didn't answer and instead threw on a red dress. She clipped portions of her hair back so it wouldn't fall into her eyes and she tugged on her shoes. Both ready and not, she flew down the stairs to get something to eat. When the scrambled eggs, coffee, and toast had settled just slightly, she found herself in a jostling carriage, heading for the wedding shop.

Lindy was oddly kind to her, chatting up a storm about her own wedding. Éponine didn't buy it, though. The woman was probably pretending Éponine was Clemence. When they arrived at the shop, Lindy touched Éponine's hand for a moment.

"Now, as tradition goes, we should be getting something very extravagant, but Bertrand doesn't want that, and neither will Rogier. And we certainly won't be getting something in white." Éponine blushed; virgins wore white to the altar, and Éponine _was not _a virgin. Lindy had probably dug up all her past customers. Most likely, Éponine would be wearing blue, or purple.

As they stepped out of the carriage, Lindy continued. "Oh! And your clothes arrived late last night. You won't need to wear Clemence's things any longer. I expect you to return them to her wardrobe this evening."

"Yes, _madame,_" Éponine whispered.

Inside the shop, they two settled down and waited to be called on. After hours upon hours of Lindy doing nothing but scrutinizing and picking and being down-right rude, Éponine settled on a pale blue dress with a partially full skirt. She then picked out the flowers that she would decorate her hair with. It was tradition, as well, for women to not be bawdy and showy; instead, they clipped and weaved flowers into their hair. Éponine felt a buzz inside. She completely forgot about her enforcement into the wedding, and she sort of enjoyed her afternoon. The dress would be worked on the entire night until it was finished. The next day was Thursday, and Lindy was going to try to convince her husband to allow the two children to meet.

Éponine secretly wished they wouldn't be able to. She liked surprises, and she also needed time to _try once more _to hatch a good plan. With an order of pansies and daises in her hands, Éponine smiled softly, trying not to listen to Lindy rattle on and on about what-to-do and what-not-to-do at the wedding day. It would only be the Enjolras family and a few of Bertrand's friends, maybe some of Rogier's, but Lindy doubted it. Bertrand didn't approve of his son's friends. Éponine was thankful it would be small. At the end of the ceremony, there would be a short reception, and then Éponine and Enjolras would leave for their.. honeymoon. Two weeks, alone, in a lake-house the Enjolrases never used.

Éponine was stark nervous for it all.

Although, she had only seen Enjolras' back, she had to admit it was a nice back, riddled with muscles and strong. Éponine couldn't allow herself to admire his features though. She already hated him; she had to stay true to that.

She had to.


	5. Clemence

_**A/N: **One more chapter till they meet! I'm sorry that this one took awhile for me to post. I've had it written for a long time, but I went on a sudden trip to Hershey Park yesterday and my laptop was being so ungodly slow I wanted to die. _

_**Pairings: **__E/É; more to come_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

* * *

_Clemence_

Bertrand had refused to allow Enjolras and Éponine to meet before their wedding. When Lindy had merely asked why it was such a problem, Bertrand had held his fist to his side. If there was anything he didn't like more than a disrespectful son, it was a disrespectful wife. Lindy often got ideas in her head that she was _equal _to her husband, that she, too, could do all the things he could. The thought made him red with rage, and more often than not, when she spoke up in her shrill little voice about these things, his palm connected with her cheek in a stinging slap.

Only once had Lindy ever hit him back...

Still, when she asked why it was a problem, he exercised self-control, rather proud of himself. Now, late Friday morning, Bertrand was preparing to go and meet his son. The wedding wasn't until late that afternoon, but people had already begun to arrive, including Enjolras' grandparents and one of his professors. Bertrand had graciously allowed for three of Rogier's friends to come to the wedding. When Enjolras had told his "group" about it the day after he only found out himself, not only had the men been outraged, but they had been thoroughly humored by it all. Enjolras only chose to invite two: Alexander Combeferre and Charles Courfeyrac, his closest friends. They alone would be able to help him through his troubling time. They were not at all accepting of this, but they wanted to at least be in the audience when it all happened. If Enjolras was going to go through with his father's wishes, it would take a great deal of courage and pride to do so; they simply had to be by his side.

Stepping quickly down the hall, Bertrand felt light and rather excited. He'd always loved weddings. For whatever reason, they made him feel alive and fresh. This was going to be good. This was going to straighten out his son. She was a skilled girl; she would show him how it was to be done. Hopefully soon, there would be little grandbabies to take over the land and law-firm. Maybe then Lindy would stop with her Clemence talk.

_Monsieur _Enjolras rounded the corner and knocked twice on his son's door. From behind the wood, he could hear a small, "Come in." It was gruff, rude even, but small. Bertrand had his son under his reign, like he should be. He pushed open the door, raised his arms, and smiled widely.

"Enjolras!" he said, stepped forward to hug his son. Enjolras scowled and stepped back, fiddling with his cravat. Bertrand frowned slightly, but quickly wiped it away. "How are you feeling?"

"Angry, upset, hurt, livid."

"Good!" Enjolras rolled his eyes and gave up with his cravat. Bertrand sighed and tied it skillfully, avoiding eye-contact. Enjolras stared at a blank spot on the wall. "Are you excited about the girl?"

"No."

"Don't you at least want to know her name?"

This stopped Enjolras in his tracks. Damn. He didn't even know her name. Slowly, he nodded. "Yes. I would like that. Seeing as how most couples know _a bit _about one another before they walk down the aisle," he ground out, trying to throw the words in his father's face. Bertrand shrugged it off and smiled.

"Éponine."

With an irritated, "What?" Enjolras turned around from the mirror.

"I said, Éponine. That is her name."

Enjolras tried to on for size. "Éponine.." The word felt heavy on his lips. "Wonderful."

"Now, Enjolras, you must try to be charming this afternoon."

"I don't see why."

Bertrand felt a tight-lipped smile form. If this wasn't his son's wedding day, he would slap the kid full on the face. "My creditors and solicitors and fellow lawyers will be present. So will your grandparents. Even if you don't like Éponine, try to at least make it look like you do."

Enjolras sighed. There was no way out of this. He was still confused as to why his father had done it. He hadn't given him a good reason and this made Enjolras suspicious. Whatever his reason was, it probably wouldn't be a good one either way. The next two weeks he would be away would be torture. Enjolras had so much to do, so much to plan. With this semester of school out of the way, and the revolution he and his friends were planning for the following year, it all needed to be jump-started and Enjolras had to be the one to do it all. He didn't mind; in fact, he'd prefered to be the leader. That way he knew it was all under control.

This new _wife _of his would just have to understand that Enjolras would never, _ever _be affectionate toward her. His mind was too busy, too full to think on such things. And anyway, if Enjolras ever did become affectionate, toward anyone, he'd rather it be someone who was feisty and could put up a good argument, someone he could love. Not someone already rich, spoiled, and rotten to the bone.

No. Enjolras would never become affectionate toward this Éponine.

* * *

Down the hall, and off to the left, Éponine was experiencing a heavy case of cold feet. The problem was: she could not run from this, from them. She had to face her demons and put on her big girl dress. She had to stop that young Enjolras' heart dead in its tracks. She had to knock him off his feet, only to throw him into a pit and leave him.

In all of her life, Éponine had never wanted to hit someone as much as she wanted to hit Rogier. She was anxious to meet him, to _see _him. She was also anxious to get him alone so she could lay it all out straight.

Failing to reach the top button of her wedding dress, Éponine cursed rather loudly and stamped her foot. "Damn it all!"

"I know that feeling, too, darling." The door opened and Éponine nearly wet herself from fright. Turning around, she laid eyes on one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. Éponine immediately felt self-conscious. The woman couldn't be more than thirty. She was taller, but not too tall; lean and curvy. She had a slight stomach and Éponine smiled slightly. The woman had to be pregnant. With flowing golden locks, Éponine narrowed her eyes. Dear God!

"Cl-Clemence?" she stuttered, nervous, and flustered. Lindy would have a heart-attack. Bertrand would wring the girl's neck!

Clemence nodded. "_Oui. _I assume you've heard about me." She sighed and sat down on the bed, leaning back. "No doubt Father painted a horrible picture."

Éponine shook her head. "Vipond explained it all to me."

Clemence gave a weary smile and rubbed her stomach in thought. "I've missed him. I've missed everyone."

Éponine nodded toward Clemence's stomach. "I assume Simon's?"

"You assume correctly. We married the afternoon after I left. I didn't look back and I don't regret it either."

"What are you doing here?"

"When I received word from my dearest friend Anastasia that Rogier was to be married, I had to come back. I had to see this for myself. Mother doesn't know I'm here; Father won't know. Please, enlighten me about how this all happened. I highly doubt this is of choice."

Éponine laughed harshly and motioned for Clemence to finished buttoning her dress. The woman stood and did so, waiting. "Of course this is not of choice. Your father was at my father's inn one evening when he got so drunk he went rambling on about his son who wasn't right in the head. My father took advantage of this and convinced your father to buy my younger sister. She would be able to straighten your brother out, apparently. The day your father came to pick up my sister was the day she and I found out about the deal. I volunteered to take my sister's place; she's merely a child."

Clemence, in the reflection of the mirror, looked near tears. She brushed Éponine's shoulder and then moved to get the flowers. "I'm terribly sorry for what my father had done to you.."

Éponine shrugged. "It's no worse than what _my _father has done in the past." Clemence remained silent. "Will you be staying for long?"Éponine hoped she would; if she was to get through this, she figured she needed another person who knew the pain of being shunned.

Clemence, sadly, shook her head. "Simon and I have a train to catch directly after the service."

"Oh.."

"I wish I could stay longer. I want to catch up with my mother. And I like you." She smiled brightly.

"You're not at all what I expected," Éponine admitted. She'd expected a spoiled brat with pure ringlets in her hair, not an eloquent woman who actually could care.

Clemence laughed. "Neither are you. Evelene saw me in the hall," Éponine groaned and Clemence nodded. "Will the woman ever learn? I know! I saw Evelene in the hall and she told me I should go scope you out. She doesn't like you." Clemence's eyes twinkled.

"Good. I don't like her." This brought out another laugh from the pair. There was a soft knock at the door and Clemence's face paled. Éponine, quick on her feet, cleared her throat. "Yes?"

"Clemence! We must hurry; your father his coming down the hall!"

Clemence froze and then turned quickly toward the door. "Thank you, Simon!" She turned back to Éponine. "I don't know what my father told you about Rogier, but, I warn you, he can be terrible if he chooses." She reached across and gave Éponine's hand a squeeze. "Good luck, darling."

Éponine blinked. "Thank you," she whispered.

And then, as quick as she came, Clemence was gone, rushing down the backstairs with her husband. Bertrand just missed his daughter by a mere second as he stomped into Éponine's room. He took a quick look at her and grunted.

"It'll have to do."

Éponine rolled her eyes. Her quick feelings of contentment, and thankfulness for Clemence's words were gone, replaced with dread and hatred. "Am I to be ready now, _monsieur_?"

Bertrand nodded shortly, and held out his arm. Éponine ignored it and walked past him. She was past false pleasantries for her father-in-law. He was a horrid, despicable man she didn't wish to be around more than she had to be. Hopefully, Rogier felt the same way. Hopefully, they could move out soon.

Hopefully, he would let her go.

As she reached the top of the stairs, ready to get the ordeal over with, she felt a warm breath on the back of her neck. It sent a shiver of fear down her spine. "Don't try to think of running when you and Enjolras leave for your honeymoon. This marriage is legal, and my friends and I have fixed it up so _nothing_, except death, with be able to end it. You will fix my son, or your will suffer the consequences. Is that clear, _Éponine_?" The last word came out at a sneer, a blight upon nature. Éponine felt tears behind her eyes, but she blinked them away.

"Yes, _monsieur. _Blatantly."

Suddenly, he was by her side and her hand was roughly placed on his arm. "Good. Now smile and try to look pretty."

Éponine felt a tear slip. She looked away. Her new life would be beginning in less than two hours. She would be a wife, someone's whore for the rest of her life. That was the only reason she had been bought, sold. To please. To dirty herself. She had been bought to "change" Enjolras. She had been bought to give him the best pleasures in life that only a woman could offer. She felt sick; she felt like a monster, like a toy Bertrand was dangling from his chubby fingers. Éponine had never hated herself more than she did at that moment.

But something within her changed slowly as they took the steps down the stairs. Éponine still wished to make her father proud. She would do as she was asked, because that's what Éponine always did. She would bed Enjolras over and over until her eyes were sore, her throat was numb, and she could take it no longer.

She would do this because she was a Thénardier. And being a Thénardier meant being scum, and being dirt, but it also meant doing things to one's best abilities. Éponine Thénardier, soon to be Éponine Enjolras, would do this. She would hate it, she would cry herself to sleep, she would hate her husband with so much passion it hurt. But she would do this if only because it was what she was meant to do.

And Éponine did as she was told.


	6. Nuptials of a Revolutionary

_**A/N: **__It's here and I feel like doing that shout-out thing next chapter 'cause I'm so pumped to be excited with all of you! Let me know how you feel so I can tell you how I feel about your feelings.(Wow. That sounds super lame, but it's how I feel! You don't even know the half of it!)_

_**Pairings: **__E/__É__; more to come._

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nor do I claim to.**_

* * *

_Nuptials of a Revolutionary_

Sitting in the back of the room, Clemence held her breath. She felt little Charlie kick around in her stomach; she placed a calming hand on where she figured he was. Simon, beside her, took her hand as the back door opened. Not one for formalities, or big shows, Enjolras stalked in, looking angrier and angrier with each step. He was never good at hiding anger. Clemence was aching to see him; she missed him so much. The two had always been very close, but Clemence was fairly certain Enjolras blamed her for all of his problems. Rogier was still her little brother, though. And she loved him.

When he took his place at the altar, Father Prescot, the Catholic priest who had always been with the Enjolrases, cleared his throat. The buzz in the room quieted. The back doors were once again closed, and everyone held their breath. Enjolras nearly looked blue in the face. Clemence squeezed Simon's hand tighter; he gave her an encouraging smile.

The door opened and Clemence held her breath, looking forward to her brother. She couldn't read him..

It made her heart beat quickly.

* * *

As the glass doors opened, Enjolras just about fainted. His home had been transformed into the reception hall, and the ceremony space. The main ballroom, too big, too ornate, had become the ceremony hall in less than an hour. Enjolras could hardly recognize it. Now, as the doors opened, and he was once again able to see the outside hallway, he wanted nothing more than to dart past his father and this Éponine; he wanted freedom.

Cautiously, Enjolras cleared his mind. _Look at her! Look at her, you coward! _A wall behind his eyelids refused to take in what he was seeing. It was all a blur. The only thing he could see was red: his hatred for this whole damn mess. Suddenly, she was by his side. Bertrand was "giving her away" and Enjolras could feel his heart beat quickly. She was standing beside him: Éponine was and he still couldn't see her. Once again, he cleared his mind and opened his eyes (metaphorically). He breathed deeply, and smelled her scent. Lilacs? No. Strawberries. _Yes. _

Strawberries were Enjolras' weakness. Whomever had gotten her ready knew that, and played yet another trick on him. Enjolras wanted to throw up. Her hair was piled up into a low bun with little flowers arranged neatly into it. She was smaller, rougher, and certainly tanner than he had expected. There were little callouses on the inside of her palm that brushed against his own. Enjolras didn't exactly know what to think, to feel. Their hands, which had been awkwardly placed together, were quickly generating heat. He knew it probably looked odd, how much he was staring at her. For all he knew, his father had told them all that it was love at first sight for the boy, head over heels.

But he had never seen her before.

When she looked up at him suddenly, Enjolras saw it all, felt it all. He saw the hatred in her eyes, and he knew his own eyes harbored the emotion as well. He didn't hate her, per se, but he was sure that he would by the end of the night. Her brown orbs bore into his relentlessly. She was so terrifyingly angry. Enjolras, too, could feel the anger pooling in his stomach. Somewhere out in the audience, though, he knew his friends sat. He thought about them; it helped some. So, he looked away from Éponine and toward the now rambling priest.

Éponine felt a tiny breath of wonder escape her when Enjolras finally looked away. Sweet Lord, he was gorgeous. He was out of some book, some fantastical story land. He was tall, and certainly well sculpted. His hair, which she faintly remembered, was the same: blond, curly, thick. All she could think about was weaving her hand through it. She glanced down at their conjoined hands; he had nice hands. Éponine quickly sent up a silent prayer of thanks before looking back at the priest. She could _certainly _bed this.

As the thought crossed her mind, Éponine forced herself not to cringe. She reminded herself to breathe. It would be okay; she would be okay. He would let her go; she could see it. He didn't want this either...

She soon remembered Bertrand and Clemence's warning: _He can be terrible if he chooses._

Éponine had certainly seen that in the few seconds their eyes had locked. She wasn't frightened or intimidated. She met it as a challenge.

She focused on the ceremony. They played their parts, like the pawns they were. They spoke when they needed to, lit a few candles. Enjolras forced the ring onto Éponine's finger and too soon it felt bulky and heavy. She reminded herself never to wear it, excpect when she had to. Legally, Éponine may be married to this man, but not in spirit. Finally, it was over. Éponine was thankful Bertrand had spared them from sealing it all with a kiss. It saved her the humiliation.

When the priest announced them as man and wife, and they turned to face their judges, Éponine didn't even try to smile; out of the corner of her eye, she saw it was the same for Enjolras. But he struck her as a man that didn't smile anyway.

Soon, they were ushered off through the back door to sign the papers. At first, Éponine was tempted to sign with her left hand instead of her right; technically, the marriage would be null then, but Bertrand was staring at her so intently, she just couldn't do it.

Enjolras had not said a word since he said 'I do.' Éponine didn't mind that; she kept quiet, too. Bertrand then folded the papers and shoved them into a packet, which would be deliver to his law office. Smiling with satisfaction, he clapped his son's shoulder. Enjolras stood a good three feet in front of Éponine. He had hardly moved a muscle since they got in there. When his father touched him, Éponine swore she could hear him hiss and draw back.

"Don't touch me," he growled.

Bertrand frowned. "Watch your tongue, boy." And then he was gone, throwing over his shoulder that the pair needed to be in the main dining hall in ten minutes, and they should try to look happy. Éponine breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed behind him. Enjolras turned around, staring at her, angry.

She straightened herself up to her full height, which maybe only came to about his chin. "I don't like your father very much," she stated simply.

Enjolras scoffed and stared at her, narrowing his eyes. "Neither do I, at the moment."

There was a deafening silence. Éponine had no words for him; Enjolras simply didn't know what to say. He was _married. _He breathed deeply. The fresh air coming through the nearby opened window did wonders. It had begun to rain, mimicking Enjolras and Éponine's mood perfectly. He turned her back toward her. She sighed and readjusted a flower.

"I'm Éponine," she whispered, thoroughly embarrassed at the situation. This shouldn't be happening this way. God, the awkwardness was so thick Bertrand could cut it with the wedding knife himself.

Enjolras stared at her, judging her. "Rogier Enjolras."

"We need to go," she said then, desperate to get out of the quickly closing room.

He nodded and cleared his throat. Enjolras then turned and held out his arm for his wife. She stared at it like he was offering her a severed head. "You must take it." He rolled his eyes. "They think we're _in love._"

Éponine raised an eyebrow. "Do they?"

"My father is a very convincing man. He can make anything into a well-believed story."

Éponine swallowed. "I'm sure." She shook off her fears and took his arm, lightly. "If they think we're in love then, do try and smile. You look like a pillar of marble standing like that." Once again, she swore she could hear him growl. He opened the door and followed her through, clutching onto her hand tightly, too tight.

Éponine tried not to wince.

* * *

Éponine stepped out of the carriage without waiting for Rogier. He followed her silently. They had been whisked away from the reception for the lake house merely three hours before, and the ride there was hell. Enjolras would not look, nor speak to Éponine. She hardly let it affect her. She would do what she had to do, once, and then be done with it.

The lake house, once she finally set eyes on it, was much more beautiful than Enjolras Estate. It was smaller, albeit, but grander, more sculpted. Lush gardens surrounded the large home, supported by pillars in the front. A lake, of course, was situated directly in front of the home. Large cattails grew around the sides, fish swam and occasionally bubbled up to the top. Éponine ran a hand through her now loose hair, and smiled faintly, glancing down when the few carpet bags were placed by her feet. She felt Enjolras standing beside her, and soon, the carriage was rolling away and they were left alone.

She didn't exactly know what to do. If she had been alone, she would have stripped off all her clothes and taken a swim – well, tried to. Part of her was daring the other half to do so. Instead, she reached behind her and grabbed the nearest carpet-bag. When Enjolras didn't follow her, too interested in the grass around him, she sighed and threw up the hand not holding the carpet back.

"Come on then," she said, trying her best to smile. Enjolras looked up and sneered, roughly grabbing the bags around his feet.

They shuffled into the house awkwardly. Enjolras had been to the lake house once in his lifetime. He was seven at the time and Clemence was ten. His mother and father, on a rare spurt of happiness and contentment, had decided one morning to spend the weekend at the lake house. It was probably the happiest memory Enjolras had of his childhood. No one had fought that weekend; no one had been hit.

Now, the lake house would be spoiled with new memories of two weeks of hell. Enjolras was ready to burn to place to the ground. Knowing his way around, he continued on up the wide staircase, motioning for Éponine to follow. She did, silently. When they reached the top, Enjolras set one of his bags down. He pointed down the hallway to the left.

"My room will be down there. Yours down there." He pointed to the hallway on the right. Éponine frowned slightly, but then nodded. "We both know this is not convenient. In case you were, and are still, hoping for me to do some sort of romantic gesture, I suggest you end that hope. We will live together, if only to subdue my father. Apart from that, I really don't want to see you." Enjolras heard the words come from his mouth, but they didn't connect with his brain. He also saw the look of shock that crossed his wife's face. He didn't let if phase him.

With a sharp turn on his heels, Enjolras headed down the hall. There was still work to be done, whether he was on his honeymoon or not. Behind him, Éponine stood, more angry than ever.

Was he just going to send her away with a snap of his fingers? Just like that? No. That would not do. If Enjolras didn't want to see her, then fine, but he could send her _home_, not keep her locked up. She also felt slightly hurt. He was so curt with her, so final. Well, the night wasn't going to end _just _like that.

She would see to it they ate a proper meal together and at least tried to learn some things about each other. Éponine and Enjolras may not have to like each other or get along, but they had to live under the same roof. The least they could do was learn what the other liked or disliked.

Éponine cracked her knuckles. She had work to do.

* * *

_I know that wasn't the wedding most people would have wanted, but they met. Finally; six chapters in! _


	7. To Dine with a King

_**A/N: **__(I cracked and updated again tonight because I won't be able to tomorrow like I planned. Didn't think you would complain.) I hope you guys all realize that I have written up to about chapter 16._

_**ThatGirlintheBlack: **__I, too, haven't seen many when they immediately hate each other. Glad you're enjoying and squawking. ;)_

_**Little Emily: **__You'll just have to wait and see. It's certainly... eventful. _

_**Theatregirls2317: **__I'm so glad you feel that way! It was my hope someone would._

_**Judy-BB: **__Haha! "Incredible wonders." I'm dying 'cause for some reason that just strikes me as hilarious. And your idea.. Well, you, too, will have to wait and see._

_**Dracolover: **__É__ponine giving Enjolras a piece of her mind? Hm.. So glad you're loving the story!_

_**TcEm: **__Ah! Thank you so much! I can't wait to hear what you think about future chapters._

_**Brit-Kit (I think I'm stickin' with that; it sounds cooler): **__Angry!Enjolras gives me shivers. She could be all like, "I JUST WANNA TOUCH YOUR HAIR ALL DAY!" 'Cause, that would be me._

_**Eponine Sparrow: **__They.. They – I can't give anything away, so just keep reading!_

_**MidniteMasquerade: **__Thank you! __É__ponine is kind of a bamf._

_**Guest(s): **__Thank you guys so much! The lake house is literally my favorite thing ever. I agree. __É__ponine needs to flip her stuff._

_**Pairings: **__E/__É; more to come_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing from Les Mis**_

* * *

_To Dine with a King_

The cook that had been provided for the newlyweds was nothing compared to Vipond. Though his food was adequate, good even, he lacked the character and the spunk Vipond had. In fact, he could care less about Enjolras and Éponine. He was too busy fraternizing with Evelene, who had arrived with Adolf, earlier that day.

Éponine planned on going down and finding him sometime later, to request a dinner to be prepared for her and her _husband. _Until then, she was busy unpacking all of her new, unworn clothes into the dressers in her room. The room she was put up in was even larger than her own at Enjolras Estate. Two large picture windows were on the farthest wall across from the door. Her four poster bed was adorned with pillow galore and it was a deep shade of purple; the sheets were silk. Across from the bed was a dead fire place and beside the fire place was a deep chestnut writing desk. Éponine smiled; she felt like a queen.

After she had set up her room to fit her needs, Éponine made her way down the marble staircase. For a lake house the Enjolrases never used, it was much, _much _grander than their Estate. The grounds were certainly smaller, but she found them to be quaint and comforting. Éponine slipped off her shoes and placed them beside the front door. She exited quietly, then took off in a sprint, heading for the rather large boat house on the end of the dock on the opposite side of the lake. Thankfully, it was unlocked when she reached it. Entering, she found it to be nearly bare, besides two small boats and oars. Éponine smiled to herself. If ever she needed to find peace and quiet, it would be here.

She pushed open the back door and stepped out onto the dock, taking a seat at the end. The water, when she slipped in her feet, lapped around her ankles. Éponine felt her head tip back. The day's events were still fresh in her mind, and as painful as ever.

_His eyes, those hateful eyes._

Éponine shook the feeling and the memories off and focused on the world around her. She missed Vipond. He would have liked it there. Éponine turned her head and looked up toward the top floor of the house. Her heart skidded to a stop when she saw Enjolras, standing in his window, staring out at her. Éponine cursed and jumped up, scared out of her mind. How long had he been watching her? Quickly, she ran back through the boat house and toward the front door.

Would he forbid her to go to the lake? Could he even do that? If he tried, she wouldn't let him.

Enjolras met her at the door, his face a little flushed from running so quickly. Éponine nearly ran full force into him, but caught herself on her toes, tipping forward just slightly. She looked up at met his eyes with an equally as forceful look.

"Enjolras," she said, rather breathlessly.

He looked over her shoulder at the lake. "Éponine."

"Were you watching me?"

He didn't answer her.

"If you weren't watching me, then why did you come down here and meet me at the door?" She raised an eyebrow. Enjolras' eyes flitted down and stared at her, his perfect face emotionless.

"I was just... Yes. I was watching you."

Éponine smirked and brushed past him, heading for the kitchens. "I know you really don't want to see me, but I think you could be able to live with at least one dinner. We could get to know each other better?" She turned around at the door-jam and leaned against the framing with her hip, crossing her arms. Éponine planned on going through with what Bertrand wanted; she had to. In order to do so, why not get him a little drunk? He looked like the sort of man who couldn't hold his whiskey. Like her father, Éponine would use that to her advantage.

Enjolras regarded her with an odd look she couldn't place. After a moment of silence, he nodded once. "I suppose it couldn't do any harm."

Éponine smiled brightly. "Wonderful," she whispered, turning on her heel to find the cook. "Dinner will be at seven!"

* * *

The door slammed hard behind Enjolras. Damn it! Why did he agree to dinner? Enjolras could not be distracted by her; he wouldn't allow it. But, slowly, he felt himself already slipping. In a matter of hours, this woman had intrigued him, no doubt about that. Éponine was not at all what he had expected. She was cocky, and argumentative, and she held herself above those she was not above. Many of the women in Paris did the same thing, of course; Enjolras had seen it before. But they had people to order about, to be above in society. Now, Éponine, Éponine was different. She was off the streets, he was in no doubt about that.

He had been watching her earlier, while she was at the lake, because it confirmed his suspicions about her upbringing. He had never seen a woman of standing run to a dirty lake, barefoot in the grass, and _put _her feet in the water.

Sighing, Enjolras fell down into the chair behind his desk. He rubbed his aching forehead. The café he and his friends frequented was nearby, by some stroke of luck, and thankfully, his father did not know that. Maybe Enjolras could sneak out once or twice a week. He didn't think Éponine would mind; she obviously disliked him. He couldn't help but be a little repulsed by her own self-serving nature and general air. She walked about like she owned the place and Enjolras hated that sort of thing.

But why would she want to get to know him?

Enjolras couldn't help but admit that he wanted to get to know her. She could help him with the revolution, without her knowing, of course. She would be the perfect candidate for interviews and she probably had many gruesome stories that would help muster up the lads. Enjolras smirked to himself.

Yes. Maybe his wife would be useful after all.

* * *

Dinner came as planned, at seven. Éponine was rather excited, if she was honest with herself. But she wasn't being honest with herself. She was trying to convince herself that she was dreading this dinner. The convincing didn't work very well.

She found it unnecessary to change for supper, unlike Lindy, or Clemence would. Enjolras, it seemed, felt the same way. They met at the top of the stairs and surveyed each other with surprised looks. Then, he grunted, and bounded down the steps. Éponine followed behind, close on his heels. Enjolras took a seat at the head of the table, and Éponine took a seat beside his left. When she scooted the chair out, and sat down with a huff, Enjolras stared at her with wide eyes. She smirked.

The cook came him, irritated that he actually had to do his job. He placed the lobster, the rolls, and the cheesy soup before the pair, before asking if there was anything else they wanted. When Éponine nodded, he rolled his eyes.

"Some wine and whiskey, please."

"Of course, _madame._"

Éponine stared at her plate quickly, feeling a blush rise to her cheeks. That's right; she was a _madame _now. Beside her, Enjolras chuckled to himself. Éponine looked up quickly and glared at him.

"So, Rogier," she said; he cringed. "I rather like that name."

Enjolras sighed, pushing around a roll. "I would be appreciative if you chose not to use it."

"What's so wrong with it?" Éponine delved out large portion of lobster. She'd never had it before, but was eager to try. Enjolras took a ladle full of soup and stirred it around, before blowing on it slowly. The way his lips pursed together made Éponine have to look away and clear her throat.

"It's... childish."

"I disagree-"

Enjolras rolled his eyes. "Of course you do."

Éponine tried to swallow her anger. Could he get off his high horse for once and hold an adult conversation?! "Excuse me?" The cook came back in with the wine and whiskey, which she grabbed from his hands, sending him away. She poured herself a generous glass of wine, while she opted to give Enjolras the whiskey. When he tried to protest, she shook her head, saying, "I insist."

Enjolras took a careful sip. He'd had whiskey before, but found the after effects to be rather unpleasant. This time, though, the burn felt good. "I was only saying," he continued. "That you do seem to enjoy disagreeing."

Éponine frowned. "We haven't even had a proper conversation. How would you know?"

Enjolras fought the urge to smile. "There! You just did it again."

Éponine looked away, and ate a small bite of lobster. Her eyes must have popped because Enjolras started to laugh quietly. She stared at him, confused. "What is it?"

"I would have thought you have eaten much lobster in your life, _madame. _It appears not." His eyebrows rose as he looked back down at his plate. He was testing her, wanting to know whether or not she would lie to him about her heritage.

Éponine froze. Bertrand had certainly not told his son where she came from: the gutters, the streets. Éponine chewed slowly, contemplating her reply. Should she tell him? What would he do when he found out? Éponine went with her gut: to lie. She'd always been ashamed of her past, even more so now that she was married to some pompous-ass lawyer's son.

"Well," she looked up at him. "My mother didn't really care for seafood, nor did my father." Keep the lie simple, short, and untestable: that's what her father had always said. As she waited for him to reply, she judged his internal reaction. Something in his eyes faded. Had Éponine made the wrong choice?

Still, when he nodded and reached forward for a roll, Éponine breathed a sigh of relief. "I see," he finally replied. "Where did you grow up?"

"Provence-Alps," she spat out. God. She hadn't even been out of Paris!

"Ah! The hill part, or beach area? I would prefer the hill area myself, but.." Enjolras, with the roll mid-air, narrowed his eyes at Éponine.

"The hill part."

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "I went there once when I was a child. It's very beautiful."

"Yes. I miss it sometimes.." Éponine looked away. She needed the topic off of herself. And soon. She smiled when Enjolras knocked back his whiskey and reached for another. "Tell me about yourself." His new glass was filled nearly to the top.

"What would you like to know?"

Éponine pulled apart her roll slowly. "Anything." He took another sip of his whiskey. "Like.. who are _Les Amis de l'ABC?_" Enjolras began choking on his whiskey and Éponine startled, jumping from her seat. She moved behind his chair and hit his back a few times. He soon regained his breath and turned around in his chair, starting at her angrily.

"How do you know about them?"

Éponine shrugged and took a step back. "It was in one of your ledgers, _monsieur. _I got antsy one day and found your library; the ledger was open to the page full of names and pla-"

Enjolras jumped up so fast the chair nearly tipped over. "You went sneaking around in my library?"

Éponine nodded very slowly then said, "Your father had me _chained _up in _your _house. What was I supposed to do? _Sew?!_" She narrowed her eyes, anger bubbling.

"_Never _do that again. Never," he repeated, stepping dangerously close. On instinct, Éponine took a step back.

"But, Rogi-"

"_And don't ever call me Rogier again either!_" Enjolras picked up his whiskey and left the room. Éponine was left, stunned into silence. Maybe that wasn't the best idea: dinner, speaking about her "past," talking about _Les Amis_. None of it was a good idea. Éponine felt defeated and angry.

For a moment there, he had been rather pleasant.

But the moment was gone, just like his person.


	8. Emma

_**A/N: **You know what I love? Secrets, because this story is literally a roller-coaster of awesome and you can't even imagine the cards I have up my sleeve. *evil laugh* _

_**Pairings: **__E/__É; more to come_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

* * *

_Emma_

Éponine slept remarkably well, despite the previous day's events. After Enjolras had yelled at her for no particular reason, she had cleared up the dinner table as best she could, before retiring to her own room. By then, it was late at night, and the full force of exhaustion she felt hit her full on. She'd almost fallen asleep standing up.

Daylight shined through her curtains, splitting across her face. Éponine smiled to herself and yawned, rolling her neck. She rolled out of bed and reached for a silk robe given to her by one of Enjolras' relatives. Her long cotton nightgown molded against her body as she headed for the door. Breakfast, that was her main priority. Then she would tackle whatever else the day brought. Her bare feet against the cold marble of the staircase sent an awakening shock to Éponine's mind. Éponine's pace quickened. She passed Evelene on the stairs and stopped her.

"The cook, Evelene, is here to perform his duties, not mess around with you. Keep that in mind." The middle aged woman frowned deeply and brushed past Éponine, heading to straighten up her room.

Éponine laughed to herself, but stopped abruptly, when she heard voices coming from the main drawing room. She stopped on the last step and held onto the banister. She could clearly make out Enjolras' voice, but there seemed to be two others, that of which she could not place. Éponine pulled her robe closer and sneaked past the drawing room, eager to find an apple or tart or something of food substance. She was just a hairline away from the door when she heard, "Well if it isn't the lovely little wife! Come in here, Éponine! Let us get a proper look at you."

Éponine had never blushed so hard in her life. She felt her back straighten, and her fists clench. Men had spoken to her that way before, even worse, too. But Éponine was a whore no longer; she demanded respect now. There was no way in hell she would go in there looking as she did. Enjolras would wring her neck. Luckily, she heard his voice, "Grantaire, I don't think that's the best idea."

"Why not? She's right there!"

Another voice said, "She's barely dressed." Éponine's face grew even hotter.

"All the better."

The girl frowned and nearly walked into the room and slapped the man upside his fat head, but she held herself together and walked toward the kitchen slowly. There she was able to scrounge together some food and rush back up to her room without being seen again, if only barely. She would have to talk to Enjorlas about his friend and his friend's loose tongue. Éponine may have been bought to please Enjolras, but his friends could _not _know that.

Evelene had done a rather nice job of cleaning up Éponine's room. She reminded herself to thank the woman later on. For now, though, she would busy herself writing Azelma. She had no way of knowing whether or not her sister would get the letter, or even if her sister could read, but there was no harm in trying.

* * *

Enjolras was beyond angry. While it was plain that he and Éponine would never really get on, Enjolras still felt that she deserved to be treated with respect; everyone did. After Grantaire had made several lewd comments about her state of dress (Honestly? Who walked downstairs in only a silken robe, though?), Enjolras had promptly ended their short meeting. Grantaire had rolled his eyes and left, off to drown himself in beer. Combeferre, the other man present, had stayed a little while longer.

_Combeferre smirked and took a sip of his drink. Enjolras, resting one arm against the mantel piece, stared into the empty fireplace. "How's married life treating you, 'Ras?" he asked. Enjolras groaned and hit his head against the mantel. Combeferre chuckled. "I take it not too well?"_

"_She likes to pry into my personal life. Apparently, I could have met her long before the wedding, for my father had her caged up in the house like a dog for a week or so. She snooped around in the revolution ledgers." _

_Combeferre leaned back in his chair. "Why is that such an issue? She's merely curious."_

_Enjolras sighed and slumped down in the armchair beside him. "Yes. But what if she doesn't like what we're doing? She could... tell someone; we could be arrested before we've even made any difference!" _

"_Now, Enjolras, do you really think she would do that?" _

"_No. Probably not. But, if it adds anything, she's also a liar." Enjolras could take a white lie here and there, but when someone lied straight to his face he didn't take too kindly to the action when he found out. _

_Combeferre wanted to help his friend. Truly, he did, but Enjolras was being stubborn, like always. Combeferre had first hand experience with arranged marriages: he was a product of one. His parents, though, had fallen head of heels in love with each other on first sight. But Combeferre understood that it was a hard thing to go through. There were still many things his parents did not know about one another; things they should know. _

_He shook his head and stood up, collecting the books he had brought. "I'm not sure what to tell you, Enjolras. Try and clear your head, then come back to the caf__é__ when you think you're ready. But more than anything – and I'm saying this as your dearest friend – try to get to know your wife."_

If Combeferre was right, Enjolras would never admit it. Éponine's actions earlier that morning had been inappropriate and uncalled for. He was bent on telling her so. Enjolras downed one last glass of whiskey (He had found it to be a great stress-reliever the past few days), and bounded up the steps, taking two at a time. When he reached his wife's room, the door was wide open, but she was not in it. He groaned.

The lake-house was not all that large compared to his own home, but whoever had designed it found it either amusing or creative to scatter the rooms everywhere; in order to get to another room, one had to go on a scavenger hunt, or hope the room was at the end of one of the many winding halls. Éponine's room was at the top of the stairs, off to the right a little bit. She could walk out the door and look over the ornate banister easily, even jump over the side if she wished to. Enjolras, on the other hand, was situated in a room behind the library.

He was in no mood to search for her the whole day, so he decided to retire and hope his temper calmed before luncheon. He pushed open the tall doors of the small library and walked in. Like his personal library at home, this one had books scaling nearly to the ceiling, with the ceiling itself being made of windows. Enjolras enjoyed this one more than his own because it hosted more of a variety of books. He smiled to himself as he walked in. Nothing would make him feel better than a book, some tea maybe, and perfect...

"_Shit!_"

Enjolras jumped and fell back against the nearest bookcase, breathing heavily. He looked up toward where the sound was coming from. He rolled his eyes. Éponine, towering above him on one of the ladders, was trying ever so hard to reach a book that her fingertips barely brushed. Enjolras chuckled; she looked like a silly schoolgirl. In order to relieve her of any further embarrassment, Enjolras cleared his throat.

Éponine turned too quickly and nearly toppled off the ladder; it was a ten foot drop and Éponine was not in any need of broken bones. She shrieked quietly and lurched forward, wrapping both her arms around one side of the ladder. Then, as quickly as she could, she tried to make herself look composed, though she was far from it. Enjolras looked rather tiny from up where she was, and she liked it that way. See if he could intimidate her from down there!

Enjolras had his arms crossed, one hand touching his chin. Éponine jutted out her own chin and looked away. The book she was reaching for desperately was _Emma_, one of her absolute favorites. Éponine was surprised that Enjolras had such a book in his library, but then again, it seemed like every book in the world lay somewhere on the shelves.

"Are you in any need of assistance?" he asked calmly. Éponine shook her head. "Are you sure? You seem to be in quite a predicament up there."

"No. Thank you,_ monsieur. _I can manage."

Enjolras held up his hands in defeat. "Alright then. If you don't mind, I'll just be over here... working."

"Go ahead."

_Thanks for the permission. _Enjolras rolled his eyes and set about cleaning up the ledgers and books he had left out. The revolution he and his friends were planning was still in its beginning stages, but it was moving along rapidly. At the moment, the real revolution, when the barricades went up, was planned for sometime in May or June the following year. Enjolras was already brimming with excitement. Éponine would probably be out of his hair by then, and he could focus solely on his heart's desire.

As he cleaned up, though, he kept hearing these soft little grunts and mutters up his wife's breath. He still couldn't get used to that: his _wife. _He looked up to see her still struggling. Enjolras needed to get some work done, but with her constant noises and generally annoying presence, Enjolras would never be able to be productive.

Sighing, he slammed the cover of the book he was holding and threw it on the desk. It clattered down and he stalked over to the ladder she was on. He looked up, but promptly stepped back. One could nearly see up her dress with the way she was sticking her foot out.

"Éponine, get down from there," he said, commanding.

Éponine turned her head and looked down, pulling her foot back. She sighed and complied, stepping down the ladder quickly. She hated asking for help, and hated it even more when someone gave her help when she needed it most. This was utterly humiliating. Enjolras scaled the ladder skillfully and reached the book without any up-holdings. Then, he dropped back down and handed the book to her, raising his eyebrow.

Éponine scoffed and tore the book from his hands, going to settle down the couch. Enjolras was about to ask her to kindly leave when Adolf burst into the room, a high flush on his cheeks. Enjolras and Éponine both looked up, surprised.

"What is it then?" Enjolras barked when Adolf failed to say anything.

"Your father, _monsieur. _He's here, in the drawing room."

It was Enjolras' turn to curse. "Shit." Quickly, he ran for the door then turned around, remembering Éponine. "Stay up here."

"To hell if I do," she uttered, following close behind him.

* * *

Husband and wife, with wife a little far behind husband, calmed their quick pace to a stroll when they first saw Bertrand in the edge of the drawing him. He looked awfully impatient, holding his work bag. Finally, he looked up and noticed the pair, smiling.

"There's the happy couple!" he chirped.

Enjolras scowled and stood on the middle of the stairs. Éponine went to the last step. She was in no doubt that Bertrand was here to speak with her. "Father," Éponine heard her husband say slowly. She put on a small smile and let Bertrand put on a show of kissing the top of her hand. Bertrand then stood up to his full height and raised a questioning eyebrow at his son. Enjolras, realizing he had matters with Éponine, shook his head and wandered off.

Bertrand smiled once more at Éponine and ushered her into the drawing room for a short chat. "Now, then, Éponine. How did it go?"

Éponine held back an eye-roll. Of course, checking up on her part of the deal should have been something Éponine foresaw from Bertrand. Éponine's plans may have failed the night before, but she was determined to get it done and over with.

For once, Éponine told the truth: "Nothing has happened yet," she said cautiously. "But I'm working on it."

Bertrand was obviously displeased. He snapped his bag against his leg. "Get to it then," he sneered, his face dangerously close to Éponine's. The woman took a step back, and watched as her father-in-law left the house, slamming the door.

What was with this family slamming doors?

Éponine sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She traipsed back up the stairs and into the now empty library. Éponine found herself to be slightly disappointed; why was beyond her.

But then, Enjolras strolled back into the library, an apple in hand. "He came and went that fast?"

Éponine swallowed and returned to her book, flipping through the first couple of pages. "Thankfully." She looked up and met his eyes, smiling. Enjolras felt a hesitant smile as well, then shook it off and returned to his desk.

Éponine smirked at the pages of her book. The boy was in for heap of trouble...

* * *

_Tell me how you're feeling, dears! On a side note, Happy Father's Day! To celebrate, I'm off to watch Star Trek for the rest of my life with my geek of a father. _


	9. Retries

_**A/N: **__Holy cow (again)! Thank you all so much for your tremendous support on this story. I'm so thrilled that you're all enjoying it. As for my secrets and twists, you'll never know until they happen. :D _

_I hope this chapter sheds some light on our dear couple and their thoughts. _

_**(PS: shameless plug for **_**insignificantramblings' **_**story 'The Law of Love' which was updated last night and I peed myself. Everybody should go read it because Brit-Kit kicks butt and is a wonderful person.)**_

_**Pairings: **__E/__É__; more to come_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

* * *

_Retries_

Éponine finally got Enjolras alone at dinner, once again. He seemed more relaxed, which was nice to see. Éponine had to be partly honest with herself: he was growing on her. His outer shell was nasty, but he had a heart for the people of France, which she greatly admired. France needed people like Enjolras. People who were extremely determined and ready to do what they had to do. Éponine, of course, did not yet know the full extent of what he was willing to go through for France.

Éponine pushed back from the table, content with her full stomach and slightly buzzing brain. Beside her, Enjolras looked like he was about to fall asleep. She sighed and tapped the top of his head lightly. His head snapped up, along with his eyes.

"Huh?"

"It's not polite to fall asleep at the table," she said, sure her eyes were twinkling.

Enjolras coughed and wiped his mouth before standing up as well. "I apologize. Today was rather stressful. What with visitors this morning, and my father, I never seem to get a break." He ran a hand through his curls and reached for the whiskey. Éponine raised an eyebrow, watching as he poured the liquid. If he became an alcoholic like her father was, she'd beat it out of him.

"Don't get too friendly with that," she noted, brushing past him toward the back door. Enjolras glanced at the half-full glace and then back at Éponine's retreating from. She was right; there was no way he was going to end up like Grantaire. Besides, he'd had enough for one day. It was getting harder to see properly and his hearing was slightly disoriented, but no matter. Enjolras had complete control of his person and his emotions. He set the glass down.

"What would you do if I did?" he asked, following her out into the cool breeze.

Éponine answered honestly. "Beat it out of you."

Enjolras found himself chuckling. "Goodness."

Éponine strolled slowly along the dirt path that led from the back porch to the lake. She fed her fingers through the tall grasses along the side of the path, and occasionally looked over her shoulder, just to make sure Enjolras was still following her. Soon, Éponine was opening the door to the boat house. She stepped back and let Enjolras go through first. He glanced around, spending a large amount of time staring at the ceiling. Éponine smiled at her toes and walked past him onto the dock.

Several strays ducks had made their way onto the lake and Éponine was rather surprised. She hadn't seen ducks on the lake for a while. She'd been out there every one of the three days she had been at the lake house so far, and there had never been any ducks before. Before she knew it, she had completely forgotten that Enjolras was with her and she had laid down flat on her stomach, reaching out as far as she could, seeing if she could touch one of the three ducks.

Enjolras, who stood leaning against the door frame of the boat house, smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. Éponine certainly was interesting, albeit stubborn. Combeferre had been right when he said he should get to know his wife. But Enjolras wasn't really getting to know her, was he? She was lying to him about her childhood, her life. The thought angered Enjolras and the brief moment in which he allowed himself to enjoy his predicament, faded quickly, disappearing into the quickly darkening sky.

Suddenly, he heard himself ask, "Why are you lying to me?"

Éponine felt her hand fall into the cold water. Droplets splashed up onto her bare arm, and she pulled herself up onto her knees, slightly ashamed and more surprised that Enjolras had caught on so quickly. She turned her head and stared at him. Licking her lips, Éponine shook her head and looked away.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said quietly.

"Please don't lie to me any further. I do not tolerate liars." There he was again: the terrible man, ever so slightly.

Éponine stood up on her feet with some effort. She brushed her hair over her shoulder and stared him straight in the eye. "I didn't think you would."

Enjolras shook his head and looked down. "What are you saying now?"

"You've been lied to all your life, have you not?"

Enjolras frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Your mother; her and Clemence. Your father and his thoughts abou-" Éponine clamped her teeth down on her tongue in haste. She soon tasted blood, but she deserved it. Enjolras could not know, not ever.

Enjolras' arms flew to his sides and he stepped forward two steps. "What would you know about my parents? Or.. Clemence?"

Éponine took a step back, shaking her head. "Nothing. Nothing," she repeated. "I simply wanted to-"

His warms hands were suddenly on her forearms, his fingertips digging into her flesh. Éponine closed her eyes, remembering all the times her father or Montparnasse had held her in that way, shaking her back and forth. She then felt the same shaking sensation that she had before. Her brain felt like it was hitting the front and back of her skull at the same time, and though her eyes were shut, they burned with tears and pain. Amidst all of this, she could faintly hear Enjolras yelling at her.. again..

"Listen to me, Éponine, I don't want this. I don't want a wife, or need one. I have all that I need with my work; I am married to my work! Stop trying to pry around in things that don't concern you. Just.. Just stop! I bloody well don't want you, Éponine! Don't _ever_ think that will change!"

The words cut so deep Éponine could nearly feel her heart begin to bleed. Bile rose in her throat. Why, why, why had she, even for a fraction of a second, ever thought Enjolras could _want _her? Why had she ever gotten herself into this mess? Azelma would have been fine on her own; she and Enjolras would have paid no mind to each other. But Éponine let her surname and her pride get in the way. She only wanted to try and make someone proud, someone thankful..

But no. Forget Bertrand, forget Enjolras, forget everyone, every deal that had ever been made. _No one _in their right mind could ever desire Éponine. She and her gangly limbs, and dull hair, and stubborn ways.

Enjolras let go of Éponine after he felt the horrid words leave his lips. They tasted vile, and he immediately wished he could retract them. What he had said was true, but God they sounded horrible. As he let go of her, the violence of his shaking and her stunned nature sent her tumbling back into the lake with a yelp. Enjolras, shocked at his behavior as well, was too stunned to move. Too late, though, he stepped forward, arms reaching out to catch her. He missed by an inch and she fell into the lake with a splash. Enjolras groaned and waited for her head to resurface, but it did not. He waited a few more seconds, but she never resurfaced. Dear Lord, the poor thing couldn't swim.

Enjolras dove into the lake without further hesitation and soon was able to latch onto her limp body. When they broke water, he swam backwards toward land. It was remarkable how well she fit against him, but Enjolras willed himself not to think about that. Not after what he had just said. Soon, they were up on dry land: Enjolras on his side, holding Éponine against him as she shivered and wept from fright and disparity.

"Shh," he comforted, feeling responsible for both her pain and her fall. "I've got you."

Éponine pulled away rapidly and moved onto her knees, tears and water flowing down her face. Enjolras stared at her with confused eyes, but when a slap landed on his cheek, he understood.

"No, Enjolras. You will never have me," she whispered, dejected and angry.

Then, she was gone, a flurry of wet, white cloth against tan skin, headed back for the solace of her room.

* * *

Éponine refused to speak, or even look at, Enjolras for the next three days. She busied herself with letters to her sister that she would never send, and arranging different things within the boat house. Enjolras was oddly affected by what had happened. He had never felt so mean in all his life. Embarrassed by what he had done, he stayed away from her, like she stayed away from him.

When their marriage was at the official one week mark, Bertrand made another visit, bringing with him Vipond and another smaller girl by the name of Esmeralda Saro, an Italian. Éponine was in the mudroom, her elbows covered in dirt, when she heard the door open and Bertrand call for herself and Enjolras. Above her head, she heard Enjolras' heavy footsteps.

Sighing, Éponine reached for the nearest rag, and she wiped off her elbows as best she could as she walked down the hall. Just before she prepared to meet Bertrand, she threw the rag into a corner. She pasted on a thin smile as she walked into the foyer, trying her best to keep that smile on when Enjolras stepped off the last step. She and Enjolras alike were incredibly surprised, and pleased, to see Vipond standing behind Bertrand. The cook held a finger to his lips and winked; Éponine felt her heart lift.

Always in a rush, Bertrand pull several papers out of his case. "This is the deed to the house, Enjolras," he said in a rushed tone.

Enjolras took the papers and scanned them over, before looking back up at his father. "This house? The lake house? What ever for?"

"I want you to have it. Well, your mother wants you to have it, and I have no reason to object. Think of it as... as a late wedding present." Bertrand smiled and held his case before him, pleased with himself. "Also, we're trading the cook here for Vipond. Lemer is much better suited for the Estate, and your mother misses Evelene, so we're giving Esmeralda to you, Éponine."

Éponine glanced at the young girl; she couldn't be more than eighteen. "Well, thank you, _monsieur._"

Bertrand smiled at Éponine, a genuine smile that made her stomach churn. Beside her, Enjolras was gripping the deed to the house quite tightly. There was an awkward lull. And then, Bertrand clasped his hand on Vipond's back, startling the other man.

"You've been a wonderful cook, Vipond. Thank you for all your service." Vipond only nodded, looking at his toes. Bertrand tried to hide his scowl and then looked up. "I'm off to collect the other two and then I have business in town. You're welcome for the house, Enjolras. Fill it with babies, not revolutionaries." Enjolras flushed. "Goodbye now."

Bertrand left the foyer in haste, screeching for Lemer and Evelene. There was a clatter of boxes and pans and such, and then the back door opened, and the trio was gone. Enjolras stepped forward and gave Vipond a squeeze before ushering him off toward a closed office, murmuring to the man under his breath. Éponine felt cheated; she had no idea the two were so close, and she was itching to have a friend again.

Éponine smiled sweetly and turned to Esmeralda. "I'm Éponine, Esmeralda, and you are a blessing in disguise." Esmeralda smiled slowly and her cheeks colored. "Do you have any bags? I can show you your room and explain everything to you."

Esmeralda picked up a tiny bag, much like the one Éponine had brought along, and followed the other woman up the stairs, still silent. Éponine pushed open the door to the room that was two down from hers. Things would be different for Esmeralda, that Éponine was making sure of.

"Here you are." Éponine let Esmeralda go in first, and then followed her. "The other woman, Evelene, slept downstairs. But, I'd rather you be up here, near me. Whatever Bertrand told you that you would be performing, is wrong. I don't need someone to clean up my room, and fold my clothes; I can do that myself. What I really need, is a friend." Éponine sighed. "Could you do that?"

Esmeralda suddenly let out a beautiful laugh, and Éponine stood back, shocked. "Oh, oh, of course, _madame-_"

"Éponine."

"Éponine.. Yes, I can surely be your friend. I was quite worried this would be a house like hell. Bertrand is certainly one convincing man, but I never thought it would be like this. I was very nervous when I first saw your husband; he's quite terrifying."

Éponine paled and set Esmeralda's bag on the vanity. "That he is." She cleared her throat. "Where are you from?"

"Roma. My mama and papa both came here to learn to cook, and I needed a job. This was the first one that opened up, so I took it." Her thickly accented voice made Éponine's ears chime. Esmeralda was about the same height as Éponine. She was tan, and a little pumper, her stomach oddly round. Her hair was lighter, from the sun, and her eyes were a bright brown; a pleasing brown.

Éponine smiled again. "I think we'll get on just fine then. I'm glad that you're here."

"Me, too, I suppose. And please, call me Alda."

"Fine then. Alda."

* * *

"_You what?_" Vipond whispered harshly.

Enjolras clamped a hand over the man's mouth, shushing him anyway. "I may have accidentally sent her flying into the lake because of some very ungentlemanly things I said."

Vipond pushed Enjolras' hand away, frowning deeply. "Good God, you've never actually talked to a woman have you?!"

"Stop! Now is not the time for that! The point is: I want you to tell me everything you know about her. She's lying to me, and she won't fess up." He sighed. "Nor will she talk to me."

"I can't blame her. I really don't want to talk to you right now." Vipond crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow.

Enjolras did his best to ignore his comments. "What do you know about her, Vipond?"

"I won't say."

"Damn it, why not?" he whined.

"Because, if she wants you to know, she will tell you. I'm surprised she didn't leave after that episode; I would have."

Enjolras rolled his eyes and fell back off his palms. "Father wouldn't let her step a foot off the property. For some reason, he wants me to have her, but like it nor not, I don't want her!"

Vipond felt his arms uncross. _So he still doesn't know? _"Enjolras, I love you like my own son, which is why I'm telling you this: Éponine, under her tough skin, is a broken, little girl. What you said, she's heard hundreds of times before. But underneath all of her brokenness, is a layer of pure gold. You just have to dig a little to find it."

Enjolras rubbed his throbbing forehead. "I don't want to get close to her. I don't want.. a wife. The rebellion.. If I was to get close to her, Vipond, what would happen when the revolution rolls around? How will that effect the outcome of all of our work? She could be the undoing of all of this!"

"I think you're exaggerating."

"I'm not, though. I can't afford to let anyone in anymore, Vipond. It's too much. I've been-" Enjolras bit his tongue. Vipond was in dangerous waters; Enjolras never opened up about his darkest feelings, his deepest fears. Vipond was treading close though, and he nearly got them. But Enjolras caught himself, like always. "You sly dog," he breathed.

Vipond smiled sadly and shrugged. "I try. Now, go get some rest, and I'll have dinner ready soon."

Enjolras backed out of the office, thankful for his friend. As he left, he turned and fell directly into an eavesdropping Éponine. She looked up and wrinkled her nose.

"I have something to tell you," she whispered, beckoning him toward the door. Against his better judgment, Enjolras began to follow her.


	10. To Be Hurt and Healed

_**A/N:** Thank you so much for over 100 followers! And only 10 chapters in! WOW! Very honored. :D So, I'm in my home-state of Texas for a week, but updates and such will still come regularly. Remember to drop me a note!  
_

_**Pairings: **__E/É; more to come_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing from Les Mis.**_

* * *

_To Be Hurt and Healed_

Sitting deep within an old boat, filled to the brim with blankets and old apple cores, Enjolras once again let Éponine's words process through his mind. His father had thought... that? Leaning forward, his legs hanging over the side of the boat, Enjolras rested his head in between his knees. If his head hurt before, it was pounding relentlessly now. Beside him, Éponine said nothing. He had to be told. Éponine had been listening the whole time to Enjolras tell Vipond that he was still confused as to why he had been forced into the marriage. It hurt Éponine to know that no one had yet told him; he had some right to know his father thought he was interested in men, not women.

While Éponine was still brooding and hurt over Enjolras' rash actions several days before, she thought it best to tell him where he could pace and scream at her all he liked, be his true self. She was surprised, though, when he did practically nothing. She was tempted to lay a hand on his shoulder, but she resisted, too scared she might slap him again, or he her.

"He really meant that?" he asked after a long silence.

"Yes," Éponine said quietly.

Enjolras leaned back, keeping a hand on his forehead, covering his eyes. He breathed deeply, and Éponine knew he was trying to calm his temper. She blushed at the thought that she was getting to know his habits, his emotions. She looked away and rested her hand on her mouth. Suddenly, Enjolras was up and heading for the door. Éponine struggled, momentarily stuck in the boat. She wiggled her way free and sprinted after him, out of breath by the time she reached him.

"Where are you going?"

Without breaking stride or turning around, Enjolras rounded the house, heading for the small stables. "To visit Bertrand, of course."

There was a pang in Éponine's stomach. He'd said Bertrand, not Father. Dear God, this was serious. Enjolras might snap his head off clean in two. Éponine was concerned for her father-in-law's safety, though she didn't wish to be, she couldn't help it. It was her nature. She reached out a hand and grabbed his elbow; it shocked the both of them. Enjolras stopped and turned around, staring at her, livid.

Éponine spoke quickly. "Let me go with you."

Enjolras took a step back, breaking their contact. "What?"

"I'd like to go with you. You need someone there so you won't commit murder." She smiled faintly. Enjolras looked to his left, thinking, maybe.

"I'd wish it if you stayed here."

"I know," she replied coolly. "But, I'd like to go."

Enjolras put a hand on his hip and ran the other hand through his hair, blowing out a breath. Here she was, Éponine, the woman he'd shook and practically pushed into a lake. Here was the woman who had been bought to whore herself for him. Here was the woman who was still angry with him (He could see it in her eyes) and yet, she still wished to go with him, to support him. It was mind-boggling. He nodded.

"_Oui. _You can come..."

Éponine smiled sincerely and Enjolras, against his own will, felt his heart clench. He'd never seen her truly smile before; it was beautiful. He looked away, started for the stables, and once again was consumed with anger.

* * *

Bertrand leaned back in his oversized arm-chair, staring out the large window before him. The whiskey bottle in his hand dangled between his fingers. Somewhere upstairs, Lindy was squealing over her first grandchild, Charles. Clemence had shown up that afternoon, her newborn son in arm, her husband by her side. Bertrand was tempted and about ready to throw her out into the rain, but Lindy had turned the corner at the exact moment he opened his mouth. For once, her happiness was all that mattered. He allowed his daughter to come back into the house, and it felt good to see her again, as hard as it was to admit.

The rain continued to pour, much to his delight. Rain was his favorite, no matter what. Just as he was about to nod off into a light sleep, the front door burst open and he heard a call for his name. Bertrand jolted from his chair, walking to see what was the matter.

The voice had sounded like Rogier.

He exited his sitting room and was met with a firm punch to the jaw. Bertrand fell back against the wall, his eyes seeing spots, his chin smarting. A hand latched onto his collar and his eyes refocused, falling onto his only son. For a split second, Bertrand saw Éponine behind Enjolras, looking rather pale and sad.

_She'd told him._

"How could you?" Enjolras ground behind a clenched jaw. His grip tightened, and Bertrand felt painful tears.

"What are you talking about?" he choked, trying to make his face seem as calm as possible.

"Éponine. Me. How could you do this to us?"

"Son, what ar-"

"_I am not your son!_" By now, the foyer had been crowded with staff, Lindy, Clemence, and Simon. "Tell them!" he shouted. "Tell them what you thought about me! Tell them what you did to Éponine!"

Bertrand shook his head. It was getting harder to breathe and Enjolras didn't look like he was going to calm down anytime soon. Enjolras' fingers suddenly relaxed and air flooded back into his father's throat. Bertrand slumped against the wall, gasping. Lindy stepped forward.

"Bertrand, what is he talking about?"

Enjolras paled even further. "You didn't even tell Mother?"

Bertrand laughed shortly and glared at his son. "Don't be silly, Rogier. Of course not!"

Lindy's voice, more determined, sounded again. "Tell me what?"

On a burst of confidence, Enjolras turned around and stared at his mother, feeling nothing for them any more. He glanced at Clemence for a second; she offered him a slow smile. Enjolras felt his throat tighten with emotion. Clemence was back. His best friend, his sister... He looked away quickly, afraid he would loose all resolve and break into tears. Although Clemence figured Enjolras hated her, and he figured she hated him, deep down, they both knew how much the other meant to them. They were bound together by the same hatred for their house, their family.

"Your husband was convinced that I enjoy a man's company more than a woman's." Enjolras heard his mother gasp, but his eyes were closed. He felt tears, of all things; they couldn't be set free. He shook them off and opened his eyes back up. "He got drunk one evening, ran his mouth, and bought Éponine's younger sister for me, as my wife. She would be able to _fix _me. But Éponine came in her sister's place because she thought her sister to be too young."

Lindy glowered at her husband. "You told me you picked Éponine because you were afraid Rogier would be lonely?"

The old man shook his head, smiling. "Ha! I don't give two sous about Enjolras' loneliness!" Bertrand pushed himself away from the wall, slightly hunched over. "I just couldn't stand the thought having a son who did those sort of things! Lindy, if word ever got out, it would be a scandal. We could lose everything!"

"But, how do you even know if your thoughts are true?"

Bertrand put out a hand toward Enjolras. "He obviously isn't making any moves to deny the claims!"

Enjolras shook his head, feeling his heart beat erratically. "No. I am not, Bertrand. And that is because I see no reason in explaining myself to someone who means so little to me." He twitched his nose and walked back toward the door, reaching for Éponine's elbow. "Come, Éponine. Let us leave this place and pray we never have to return."

They left, hearing the ever present sounds of Bertrand's yells and Lindy's soft sobbing.

* * *

Halfway through the ride home, Enjolras hit the roof of the carriage twice, signaling for the driver to stop. When the man did, Enjolras flung himself out of the cart and into the tall grass beside them. Éponine remained in the carriage for a moment, thinking he was off to take a short walk, get some fresh air. But then she heard him retching into the grass. She cursed and hiked up her thin skirts, hopping out the door. From there, she moved over to Enjolras' side hesitantly, afraid to spook him, or make him even more angry.

He was bent over, hands resting on the tops of his legs. Bile streamed from his mouth in short spurts. Once Éponine figured he was done, he started up again. For three minutes he kept at it until Éponine finally sighed and rubbed a hand on his back. It seemed to calm him down slightly, at least, enough so that he wasn't getting sick anymore. Éponine felt his clammy forehead. She pursed her lips and drew back.

"When was the last time you ate?" she asked.

Enjolras looked up at her, shaking, his eyebrow raised. "What?"

"You heard me."

He looked back at the grass and slowly straightened up. "Last night... Maybe."

Éponine shook her head. "Nerves and anger and an empty stomach will do that to you. Come on. Vipond can fix you something when we get back.." She gently led him back to the carriage. Once he was inside and situated, pale and cold, she signaled for the driver to resume his drive. Éponine reached forward then and placed her hand on his. Enjolras flinched, but didn't move away. "I felt like I had to tell you."

Enjolras turned his head away from the window and smiled slightly. It caused Éponine to pull back, her hand suddenly warm. "I thank you, from the bottom of my heart," he said. "It finally gave me a reason to be rid of him. It feels.. wonderful." His voice lowered to a barely audible whisper. Éponine thought she heard the faintest twinge of regret somewhere in his words.

Éponine looked up from her lap. "You don't hate him that much, do you?"

Enjolras shrugged and looked back out the door, clearing his throat. "Now I have a right to. Why? Don't you hate him, too?"

Éponine scoffed and leaned backed. "Certainly. He took me from my home, uprooted my whole life, and gave me to a man who-" She held her tongue and sighed. "I'm sorry.. I know this is hard for you.."

"It is I who should apologize, Éponine. I never meant to be so rough with you the other night. I never meant to send you flying into the lake." Enjolras could not tell her his fears: the fear that she had already ruined the revolution. That she had already stirred him, like she was _supposed _to.

Éponine brushed a lock of hair away from her face and shrugged. "I know this is not what either of us planned for our lives, or what we want, but I think.." She swallowed her nerves. _Now or never. _"I think that.. maybe.. We could learn to live with this. Maybe we could be.. friends."

Enjolras felt his heart collapse. No, no, no, no! She couldn't be doing this to him! After what he'd said, after what his father had done, she still wanted to be his friend, his wife. Enjolras was struck with shock and pure embarrassment. He could not allow Éponine to be his friend. Like he had shared with Vipond, she would mess him all up; she already had.

For the first time since their wedding, Enjolras actually took four seconds to _look _at Éponine; actually, study her. Sure, he'd scanned her over a few times before, just to see what she looked like, but he'd never appreciated her undeniable beauty. Éponine was staring at him with wide, brown eyes. She looked as if she was about to cry from anxiety, or whatever it was women cried over all the time. Enjolras, of course, didn't know. Her hair was not an ugly brown, like she thought. It was soft and lovely and tinted from the sun. And her lips. _Dear God, her lips. _They were plump and soft looking and all he wanted to do was kiss them.

Enjolras, surprised at his own thought, blinked several times, fearing she could read his mind, before righting himself. Now, how to respond to her request. She looked so desperate to have a friend. She really was the poor, the oppressed, the ones he was fighting for. Could she really do that much harm? Probably. Did Enjolras really care? At the moment, no. He was blind with rage and loss. The idea of aligning with this woman who could either tear down all of his well-constructed walls, turn him into something better, or ruin him in one word, enticed him. The thought thrilled him; he couldn't let it pass by.

"I think that sounds like a grand idea," he said. And for the first time in ages, Enjolras felt a bright smile tug at his lips.


	11. Acting on Need

_**A/N: **__This chapter is for my best-friend, Brit-Kit, because somehow she managed to break something in her back, not even realize it, and then get the stomach bug all within like two days. That's why I love her. Get better soon, darling!_

_Enjoy, all, because I know you will. ;)_

_**Pairings: **__E/__É__; more to come_

_**Disclaimer: I, still, own nothing. Geez.**_

* * *

_Acting on Need  
_

"I forgot to tell you," Enjolras said, swallowing his _jambon. _"Bertrand gave me the deed to this house. Looks like you wont have to give up your boat house." He looked up from his breakfast plate and turned his head to gauge Éponine's reaction. She was smiling at her own plate, pushing the food around.

It had been four days since they'd agreed to the truce. Not much had happened, though Enjolras had started going back to the meetings at the café again. He hadn't told Éponine; she didn't need to know. After all, she was still lying to him about her own family, but he would get it out of her one day. He told himself that as long as she never fessed up to lying, he didn't have to tell her where he was going. Down deep in his stomach, that didn't sound right, but he was rolling with the punches she constantly threw him and acting on limited to no experience.

Éponine knew that Enjolras had found out about where she had come from, but she didn't feel the need to tell him herself. Why should she have to live those painful memories all over again? She was awfully curious as to where Enjolras was going all the time, though. Maybe he had a mistress after all... The thought pained Éponine and she was shocked at herself. Why was she feeling this way? But, she knew better. Enjolras was as innocent as a baby, and he was probably just going to those "revolution" meetings.

"That's wonderful," she replied. "And, Enjolras, I was there." She looked up and smirked at him.

Enjolras colored. "I apologize then. I hadn't noticed."

Éponine looked up from her plate and leaned a little closer. Enjolras cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, suddenly feeling rather warm. "Do you not like this house, Enjolras?"

Enjolras was sure his face was heated; it was just the way she said his name: so easy, so smooth. _God. _She was bad for him. How had this happened so quickly? He looked around the room, as if surveying the architecture, but he was really just trying to look away from her and calm his beating heart.

"No. No, I do. Very much, in fact, but.. Well, just the fact that it came from my father." He leaned back in his chair, resting one elbow on an arm.

Éponine rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I know that you're still brooding, but you're rid of him now."

"Probably not for long," he said, as he pushed back from the table. "I have business to attend to this afternoon. You don't mind?"

Éponine took a sip of her tea and shook her head. "No. Not at all." The momentary look of pain that flashed across his face confused Éponine, but she disregarded it quickly saying, "Really. Go on."

Enjolras nodded and gathered a few books off the table. "If you insist. I should be back for supper." She nodded and waved slowly as he walked out of the room. Once she was alone, she blew out a deep breath. Since when had he cared so much?

* * *

Enjolras strolled into the café with purpose. His heart and his head felt lighter, more energized. At the counter, Martin lifted a hand to greet Enjolras, and the latter returned the man's gesture with a smile. The student then ordered his usual (a glass of water, one shot of whiskey, and one cup of tea) before heading into the back room. Enjolras didn't really have a meeting that night, or until the next week. But he needed an excuse to get out of the house, clear his mind, and talk with Combeferre about their previous conversation.

He hoped his friend would be proud.

The back room was empty, besides Joly and Combeferre, who frequented the café nearly more than Enjolras did. As he walked in, the two looked up and smiled brightly. Both were medical students, though Joly was afraid of every sickness known and not yet known to man. He and Combeferre seemed to be going over several books about smarter ways to surgically remove things from a body; Enjolras shook his head. Why anyone would want to poke around in a person's innards, he would never know.

"Enjolras!" Joly exclaimed, waving his friend over. The windows in the room had been thrown open, letting in a cool breeze. A stray bird landed on the window sill. "How are you?" he asked.

Enjolras shrugged and thanked Martin went he brought in his order. "As well as can be expected." He shared a look with Combeferre when Joly didn't notice; 'Ferre took the hint.

He closed his book and Joly looked up from his paper. "I think I've gathered as much as I need to know for this last paper. What about you, Joly?"

Joly half-nodded. "I could use a little more, but I should probably be getting back. _Le petite-amie._" He made a face and Enjolras sniggered. "Thank you, Combeferre. I'll speak with you both soon. Stay out of trouble, Enjolras, with that wife of yours." He winked, gathered his papers, and left.

When the door was firmly shut, Combeferre turned to Enjolras. "Now, what is it? What happened?"

"I found out why Father wanted me to get married." Combeferre raised his eyebrow. "He thought, _thinks, _I'm interested in men." Combeferre was very silent for a few minutes and Enjolras grew impatient. "Well?"

"I'm not going to lie, the thought has crossed my mind before, but – No! Enjolras, don't look at me like that! You know it has! _But, _I know it's not true. Your father, on the other hand, does not." He looked at the table for a moment. "How are you doing then? With Éponine? If I can figure it out, I suspect she was bought to _please _you?"

Enjolras nodded. "Yes and no. She came in place of her younger sister." Combeferre nodded. "But, she's.. She's doing better than I."

"Have you gotten to know her then?"

Enjolras scoffed. "Not the real her. She still won't tell me about her past."

"Maybe she doesn't want to think about the past? If my father sold me as a prostitute, I wouldn't want to think of think of the past, either. Can't blame her for keeping quiet about that, can you?"

Enjolras shook his head. "Can I confess something then?"

"Please." Combeferre leaned in, ears perked.

"She's becoming distracting-"

"Oh Lord, Enjolras!"

"Hush, will you?" He smiled faintly. "I regret to admit that she's near accomplished what she was bound to."

"What are you saying? Are you saying that you love her?"

"No, Combeferre! I'm saying that if Father wanted someone who would distract me from this," he gestured to the café. "And someone whom I would find interesting and.. alluring.. then he's done well."

"I am dumb-struck. For you, that's near a love confession, Enj! How did this all come about so quickly? One moment, you hate her, hate her being there. The next, she's alluring and interesting!"

"I know, I know," Enjolras said, sighing. "I think it was when she told me, told me what Father thought. She didn't have to; she could have kept it a secret. But she told me so I wouldn't have to be in the dark my whole life, be so confused as to why this all happened. It dawned on me that, though Éponine and I don't want or like this, we are in the same situation, and we can help each other through it."

Combeferre clapped a few times and Enjolras rolled his eyes. "Congratulations. You have your first female friend."

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't go so far as to say that."

"Well, in time, maybe. _Hopefully_."

Enjolras, blushing, couldn't help but nod. "Yes, in time, she could become quite important to me."

* * *

Vipond let out a low whistle as Éponine walked into the dinning room. He had just finished setting the table, and was about to go back in to gather the food, when she made her debut.

"You clean up well," he said, laughing.

Éponine laughed, too, and smiled. "_Merci._"

"Any reason you're so dolled up?" he asked.

Éponine shook her head, lying again. She glanced at herself in the reflection of the window. Her hair was softer than usual, her face less blotchy. Her dress was a cream color which accented her tan skin perfectly. The sleeves were capped at the shoulder, and there was a thin lace overlay stretching up to her collarbone. She was bare-foot because wearing shoes within one's home seemed like an awfully silly idea. Whatever had possessed her to dress nicely was also making her nervous as hell. She supposed she was excited for Enjolras to get home; she was like a little wife, recently married, thoroughly in love. But she wasn't in love and she wasn't a little wife. She was confident, she was strong.

She was hungry as hell and if Enjolras didn't show up within the next few seconds, she would eat without him!

She was going to go through with her end of the bargain, though. Éponine could feel both herself and Enjolras slipping. She was falling into his mean demeanor and soft inside. Her heart fluttered with excitement, and for once, she allowed it to.

"No. Not particularly," she finally replied. Vipond just raised an eyebrow and left the dinning room.

Outside, the sun was slowly setting and Éponine was getting a little worried. _He'd said supper, right? Wasn't that the middle of the day meal?_ Éponine didn't know. She never could understand why the rich felt they needed to eat at least eight times a day, when she went for days with only one small meal.

She grabbed a book off a small table next to a small couch facing the large window. She grunted as she read the title. _Ivanhoe. _Éponine had heard of the story, heard the plot, but thought it sounded rather dull. She leafed through the first couple of chapters, hardly paying attention to the words. Finally, three long chapters in, she heard the front door open.

"No, Adoulf, you needn't take that. I can manage. Thank you, though," she heard Enjolras say. She heard the shuffling of his feet as he shook off the layer of rain that coated his jacket. When had it started raining? Then, she heard him move toward the dining room. She tried in vain to calm her racing heart. She turned slightly, resting her elbow over the back of the faded mint couch.

"Ah, there you are," he said, smiling rather brightly. Éponine returned the grin. "And reading Scott, I see! My, Éponine, you do get around." He chuckled slightly and took the book from her hand. She remained still and silent. For a few moments, they just stood – or sat – there like that: Enjolras absentmindedly "looking" through the book Feuilly had left at the house when he'd dropped by to hand Enjolras a paper. Éponine staring at Enjolras' lips as his mouth formed some of the words. Vipond was the one who broke them out of their silence.

"Dinner, kids," he said cheerfully.

Enjolras cleared his throat, handed Éponine the book, and took his seat. He only then realized how famished he was. He'd eaten that morning, but that was hours ago; it was nearly dark now. Éponine slowly took the seat beside him. He watched her with careful eyes. Vipond set the food on the table and excused himself, leaving the two alone. He may not be a woman or very adept on romance, but he could certainly try and play a little matchmaker once and awhile. He chuckled to himself as he left to go dine with Adoulf and Esmeralda.

Enjolras regarded how Éponine was dressed most of all. She hardly ever got dressed up, choosing to wear simpler styles, which he admired. But she looked... radiant in that cream dress. He looked away.

She swallowed her soup, wrinkled her nose, and tucked her foot beneath her. "How was your meeting?" she asked quietly.

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "Meeting?"

"Yes. With your friends."

_There she goes again. _Enjolras sighed and set his fork down. "I thought I asked you not to talk about that?"

Éponine looked up and gave him the most innocent look she could muster. "_Je regrette, monsieur._"

"And please, don't call me that either." He closed his eyes. "We are equals."

Éponine cocked her head to the side and gave him a flashy grin. "Can I call you Rogier then?"

"No," he said firmly, looking at her pointedly.

"Sour-puss."

He smirked and shook his head, going back to his food. The strained silence continued until Enjolras said, "Care to tell me about yourself then? For _real _this time?" Éponine moved to make excuses, but Enjolras raised his eyebrow. "If we're to be friends, I must know about you – truly."

Éponine looked away for a few seconds, and then swallowed her pride. "I'm from the gutter. I'm the poorest of the poor and the lowest of the low. My father runs an inn where he steals and cheats and my mother sits back and helps him. They kicked my little brother out awhile ago, and he roams the streets of Paris, alone. My sister cares only about family; she'd do anything for them. I have been alone all my life," she whispered, turning to face him. "You think that your father is horrible. Try having one who put you in dangerous situations at the tender age of six. Try having a father who beat you every night if you didn't come home with enough earnings. Try having a father who sold you into prostitution and.. and.." She gave a defeated sigh.

"I'm sorry I never told you before. I didn't know what your father had said, so I pretended to be something I'm not, nor will ever be."

Enjolras was suddenly ashamed of himself. It was obvious by the strays tears and the splotchy dots on her cheeks that Éponine did not like speaking about her family. He had caused her pain, again. Sighing heavily, Enjolras rubbed his temples. He was about to thank her for finally telling him the truth when she spoke.

"Now will you tell me about your friends?"

Enjolras looked up and laughed deeply. The clever cat! She knew; she knew he was waiting for her to say something, that it would be a trade off. He watched as her eyes widened when he began to laugh, and he realized it was probably the first time she'd heard him laugh. It made him laugh even harder.

Éponine watched with wide eyes as Enjolras laughed, doubling over in his seat, clutching his middle. God, he was beautiful. Whatever she had said must have struck a chord somewhere, cause once he began laughing, there was no stopping him. It made Éponine smile. The man of marble could be like others! Soon, the two were laughing together, one half laughing because he was tired and finally understanding, the other half because she was so confused and her husband's smile was contagious.

Every time, _every _time, Éponine remembered that the man before her was her _legal_ husband, everything stopped, including her. This time was not different. She stopped laughing and stared at him intently. Enjolras slowly began to calm down as it dawned on him that Éponine was no longer laughing.

He slowed his short breathing. "What is it?" he asked, smiling slightly, still clutching his chest.

In haste, on impulse, on the pure need to, Éponine sprung from her chair beside Enjolras and held his face in her hands. She dived down and captured his lips onto hers.

And Enjolras' mind went blank.


	12. The Most to Lose

_**A/N: ThatGirlInTheBack: **__I'm pretty sure every time I've done one of these things, I've gotten your name wrong; I'm terribly sorry! Please, if you can't breathe, find an open window. ;)_

_**JehansBoner: **__Your username is the best. I literally cannont. I'm so glad you like it!_

_**Eponine Sparrow: **__It certainly could. Mwahaha!_

_**beateli: **__UGH! I JUST LOVE YOU!_

_**Judy-BB: **__ HECK YEAH, GIRL! They're gonna get it on. (Just kidding.)_

_**annevalerie: **__Thank you very much! :D_

_**t0infinityandbey0nd: **__I would very much like a cookie, but I don't update twice in one night. Sorry, love! I wish I could, though. :(_

_**Velocirapture: **__You'll have to see for yourself, deary. _

_**Brit-Kit: **__I don't know how to handle you sometimes, but that okay because I love you anyway. Also, I think this may have some of your "unguarded" stuff in it. Not sure if it was what you were looking for exactly?_

_**TcEm: **__Cliffies are the best; trust me. _

_**Nalurah: **__haha! I'm so glad you finally reviewed and found the story! It's wonderful to hear from you! Oh, and thank you for the cookie. ;)_

_**Little Emily: **__No. I ruined it. They were all killed by zombies in the first sentence of this chapter. :D (Just kidding! Or am I?)_

_**WhiteQueenEponine: **__Me, too; me, too._

_**lunalovegoodfan7: **__You're in luck. The day you reviewed, I updated. _

_**Guest: **__Just read on, darling!_

_OKAY ON TO THE CHAPTER!_

_**Pairings: **__E/__É__; more to come_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Don't sue. ;)**_

* * *

_The Most to Lose_

Enjolras resisted at first, pleasantly shocked. Then, he sighed into the kiss, and Éponine smiled against his lips. He let his emotions take over, not his brain. It was rare that Enjolras ever experienced something with his full heart, not an inkling of his brain present. He rather liked the feeling. Éponine's fingers were threading through his hair as she moved to settle on his lap. Enjolras grunted and pulled back, his breathing heavy. She stared at him with parted lips, waiting.

Then, he shook his head. "No. No, this cannot happen. Please," he asked, shifting. "Remove yourself."

Éponine pouted and ran her hands down the sides of his neck. "You're too beautiful," she whispered, feathering kisses on his jaw.

Enjolras resisted the urge to let her have her way. Either she was doing this on purpose, trying to fulfill her deal, or she was actually feeling the same dizzying feeling he was. But, he was betting all his money on the first thought. It wasn't that Enjolras didn't _want _to be with Éponine, but they had gone from hating each other to kissing quite relentlessly in the span of a few days. He needed to clear his head, drink something, sleep the feelings off, because he would not allow Éponine to win this.

"Éponine, I'm... I'm being serious." He struggled to get the words out as she gently rolled her hips; his eyes fluttered shut for a moment, but soon they were snapped back open. Enjolras didn't want to have to move Éponine by force (He'd already shaken her, for God's sake), but she wouldn't move and Enjolras needed out of that dining room. So, he stood up, simple as that. He stood up and Éponine slid off his lap, falling helplessly against the table. Her eyes were full of concern, and definitely want, but Enjolras merely reached around her, grabbed a roll, and left the room.

As he left, Éponine sulked and ran a hand through her hair. Why couldn't he see that he wanted this, too, he just refused to admit it? Why couldn't he see that this marriage could turn out to be more than a deal, more than a friendship? Well, she knew where he was headed and she was not going to go down without a fight.

* * *

Enjolras was always able to find solace in his library. He settled down in the chair behind his desk and watched the rain make patterns on the window. Twitching his nose, he ran a hand through his curls and let out a strangled groan, moving to put both hands on his forehead. He was just about to fall asleep in that position when the door opened.

Éponine.

He lifted his head and watched her walk in slowly. She'd changed into her nightgown. _On purpose, most likely. _He stared at her and waited for her to say something.

"I came to say goodnight," she whispered, hands in front of her, clasped together. In the dark room, she looked like a ghost in that white nightgown. "I'm sorry if I caused you to feel uncomfortable." She looked away and bit her lower lip. "I don't know what came over me.."

Enjolras rolled his eyes and stood up. "It's alright. You caught me off guard."

She smiled ruefully at her toes and Enjolras felt his heart clench. "I know."

"That's not to say that I didn't enjoy it," he began lamely. "I mean, I did, but.. But that's not what I want, nor expect from you." Éponine nodded. "You understand that, don't you? That I am nearly incapable of feeling those sort of things? That I cannot allow myself to?" Once the words left his mouth, a great weight lifted from his shoulders. It felt so good to get it off his chest.

For months, he'd been fretting over that. He'd seen Courfeyrac with his mistresses, and Joly with his, and part of him had wished for that as well. He'd wished for someone who would fret over his hair in the morning, someone who would listen to his thoughts and desires, someone who would love him unconditionally, no matter what happened with the revolution. He'd wished for it very deeply because he'd never had that before. Not from his mother, not from his father; no one. With that wish, came his doubts. He doubted very greatly that he was able to love someone like that, too, because he'd never experienced it. He knew he had no idea what to do, or what to say. Still, the wish remained there, buried in his chest, and he could tell no one.

He had created for himself a reputation of being unfeeling. If he up and changed that so quickly, who knew how the men would react.

When Éponine came along, he tried his damnedest to wipe away the dream completely because he knew it would never be possible with her; their hatred was too great to get over. But when the hatred had slowly dissolved during that ride home from his father's, when it had turned into a quiet friendship and respect, he'd felt it come alive a little once more. And it hurt terribly, because he couldn't allow himself to get close to his wife.

Éponine only shrugged. "I think you're just frightened, Enjolras. I think that you're too scared to let someone in." _I know I am_, she thought. "Which is okay. It's okay to be frightened; don't let it overpower you, though. You'll never save France like that." She winked and stepped forward, planting a firm kiss on his cheek. "Good night, Rogier." And then she was gone.

Enjolras plopped down onto the couch and felt the first of his tears arise.

_Dear Lord, what has she done to me?_

* * *

The next morning, Éponine awoke bright and early. The sun was finally shining and she smiled, rushing to the window, throwing it open. The humidity was already quite great and Éponine was thankful. She was itching to put the lake to use and teach herself how to swim. It was very embarrassing that Enjolras had to save her from drowning right after he had yelled at her.

But she was stuck on the idea that swimming was going to be her new escape.

So, when she was sure that Enjolras had left, she stripped down into her thin chemise and darted out the door, telling Vipond not to keep breakfast waiting for her. Inside the boat house were several towels, which she gathered. Then, she trekked out to the farthest end of the pond, the tall grasses hiding her from the view of the house, just in case.

She threw the towels down on the damp ground and stepped in. The water was cold, but brought relief. Soon, she was waist high, the chemise pooling up around her hips. Éponine stuck her tongue out, concentrating. She walked forward till the water was just above her chest and only her tip-toes touched the bottom of the murky pond. With a deep breath of courage, she put her arms out before her and lifted her feet, instantly flailing her arms in fear. The water pulled her down underneath and Éponine struggled, putting her feet back on the ground, sputtered for air when she came back up.

Again, and again, she tried until she could finally take tiny strokes and hold herself up in the water, moving her arms skillfully. She'd been out for hours and she probably was a little burnt by the sun, but she didn't mind. The fresh air was much better compared to the air in the heart of Paris.

For her final test, Éponine wanted to swim, underwater, to the other side of the lake. When she first tried, she couldn't hold her breath long enough. Soon, she was able to make it farther and farther. With a smiling face, Éponine swam back to the shore and was ready to make her way across. She dipped down and spread out her arms, pushing herself deep under the water. She was doing just fine until her ankle got twisted around a log. Éponine struggled to break free, but could not, her ankle being too stuck. Éponine reached down and attempted to pull her ankle free, but she was quickly running out of air. She wouldn't be able to hold on much longer. She pulled and she tugged and she pulled some more, but still no leeway.

Just as she felt the darkness coming, something pulled on her waist. Éponine faintly moved her head and saw a pair of booted feet kicking on the log. It broke free finally and Éponine's ankle came back swollen and bloody. The strong arms around her waist pulled her up and once again, she broke water, taking in small breaths of air.

She felt herself being taken back to the shore and settled down onto the grass. Her eyes fluttered open and water reappeared, flying out of her mouth. She lurched forward, spewing it into the dirt. Beside her, Enjolras sat, a hand on her lower back, breathing heavily.

"Éponine?" he breathed. "Are you alright?"

She fell back against the earth with a soft thud. "I only wanted to swim," she said quietly.

"If you wanted to swim, you should have asked someone to come out with you! You could have died!" he chided, moving to gingerly take her ankle into his palm. She winced and flinched, but he held firm. "This is really messed up," he whispered, touching the inflamed skin with one of his fingers. Sighing, Enjolras stood up.

Éponine moved up onto her elbows. "You're not going to just leave me here?"

Enjolras looked away from the house and scowled down at her. "Come on!" He bent down and swooped her into his arms in one fluid motion and began to the walk back to the house, not before wrapping her up into one of the towels.

Once the reached the front porch, Vipond waited behind the door, rubbing his fingers together; Éponine took notice of the three gentlemen waiting along side him. They were staring wildly at Enjolras as he carried in a drenched, heavily disheveled woman, calling for someone to send for a doctor. Panic surged through her as he placed her gently on the couch in the drawing room.

She hated doctors.

She took his hand, stopping him from moving away. "Please, Enjolras, it's fine. I don't need a doctor."

The three men had moved into the room, and she suddenly recognized one as Jehan Prouvaire. The other two were brand new.

"I hate to interrupt," a small, mousy little man said, stepping forward, a rag held to his nose. "But that looks quite terrible. I suggest that you listen to Enjolras, _mademoiselle_; he knows what he's talking about."

Éponine looked at Enjolras warily, who was staring at the man. "Thank you, Joly," he said before turning back to his wife. "I can't leave it be, Éponine. Try to be flexible here." Éponine turned away, sulking. What was his deal? "Vipond, will you please send for the doctor."

"Yes, _monsieur._"

"Thank you. Combeferre, will you take a closer look while we wait? Joly, Jehan, make yourselves comfortable. I'm sorry for the delay."

Jehan nodded and gave Éponine an embarrassed smile, obviously understanding Enjolras' mood, whereas she did not. He'd just saved her life for the second time, and was now scolding her and forcing her around. If that was his way of attempting to show affection, he was failing utterly.

A taller man with thin glasses perched on his nose stepped forward. He bent down beside the couch and took Éponine's ankle into his hand. She drew in a sharp breath. It hurt incredibly, but she'd felt worse. He tenderly tried to roll around the foot, but she swatted his hand away, claiming it hurt too much. After he stared at her foot for awhile, he stood back up and turned to Enjolras.

"It could be merely sprained, but I have a feeling it's broken. The skin is far too inflamed." Enjolras fought the urge to groan. The last thing he needed was a wife on crutches; the _very _last thing he needed was a wife at all. "We'll have to wait and see what the doctor says, though."

Enjolras nodded, hands on his hips. "In the mean time, Éponine, would you like anything?" She shook her head, taking the package of ice from Vipond as he came back into the room. "Then, would you mind if we adjourned upstairs? I need to get out of these wet clothes."

"No," she replied shortly. She caught the tail end of Combeferre's wince from behind her husband's shoulder.

Enjolras didn't catch her anger, nor her glare, for he was too busy directing his friends where to go. When they had started their trek to the library, already deep within conversation, Enjolras turned around before he left.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"Yes. Thank you.. for.. saving me."

Enjolras blushed and looked away. "I couldn't let you die."

"You would have been free of me then," she grunted, rearranging herself.

Enjolras frowned at her. "Why would I want to be free of you?"

Éponine rolled her eyes. "You don't want me, Enjolras. If you would have let me die, you wouldn't have had to be with me anymore. You could have been focused on your revolution again."

Enjolras ran a hand through his hair angrily. He pursed his lips for a moment and then groaned. "Despite what you may think, things are changing, Éponine. Yes, I may not want you, but that doesn't mean that I don't care for your safety. I would never let you die." Éponine, ashamed of her words, nodded, wrinkling her nose. "Have Vipond send for me when the doctor comes," he said gruffly before leaving the room.

Éponine's head lolled back on the couch and soon she fell into a restless sleep.


	13. Lovely Castles

_**A/N: **__Argh! Thank you all so much for your lovely reviews and such! It means so much. This chapter is a little "meh," but I swear next chapter is, "asdfjkl;"_

_**Pairings: **__E/__É;__ more to come_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing from Les Mis.**_

* * *

_Lovely Castles_

The doctor stood up with a grunt and wiped off his hands. "I think that should do it, _madame. _Remember, stay off you foot for two weeks. I'll be back to check on it then. You're lucky it wasn't broken, you know? What came over you? A woman, swimming! Think of that!" He shook his head as he rooted around for his notepad; Enjolras glared at his back, standing at little closer to Éponine than was reasonable.

"Here you are, _monsieur. _Twenty-five francs is what you owe me then," he said, handing Enjolras instructions for cleansing Éponine's ankle. Enjolras sighed and waved Adoulf over to where some money was kept. The footman paid the doctor and he shook Enjolras' hand, then left.

Once the door had closed, Enjolras tugged at the ends of his hair, his eyes closed. Éponine looked away, feeling quite guilty. Combeferre cleared his throat and stood up, cocking his head toward the other two, raising his eyebrows.

"We'd best get going then. Thank you, Enjolras, for your insights. And, _madame_, I hope that your injury heals quickly." He grabbed his books and Jehan and Joly made their excuses, wishing the same for the mistress of the house. Enjolras showed them to the door. He watched their retreating backs for awhile, closed the door slowly, and then came back into the sitting room.

Éponine's ankle was merely sprained. The doctor had wrapped it up after rubbing some soothing oil on it; the pressure the white gauze pressed on her appendage was oddly comforting. But, Éponine was to be off her foot for two weeks at the least; the thought killed her. What was she to do now? Of course, she would find some way to hobble along on the foot sooner or later, but several days in bed seemed like an eternity. Alda would certainly keep her company, though.

She pulled herself up so her back rested against the couch. Her foot dragged along the pillow propped below it. "Are you angry with me?" she heard herself ask when Enjolras failed to say anything.

He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "No."

She sighed. "What is it then? You've hardly said a word to me about this," she whispered. "What are you thinking?"

Enjolras leaned forward on his knees and looked away. "You could have died," he replied gruffly. "I was worried." Éponine was shocked. Enjolras? Worried for her? "Promise me you wont try to swim again? _Promise me!_" His sudden outburst only let Éponine nod in fear. He sighed and slapped his legs, moving above her to look at her with an oddly placed tenderness. "Alright then. Let's get you upstairs, _madame_."

* * *

The next day or so was spent lazing about for Éponine, reading, writing, drawing; while Enjolras tried desperately to focus on the revolution. Éponine's little friend, Alda, had mysteriously disappeared after the first day and a half of Éponine's bed-rest and Enjolras had still not been to visit his wife.

She was so utterly bored she thought her brain might explode. There was no one to talk to, no one to argue with. So, she was pleasantly surprised on the fourth day of her "house arrest" when her husband came up to her room, a tray of food in hand. Normally, Vipond or Alda would have served her, but Alda was missing and Vipond was too busy at the moment. Éponine looked up from her book with an unexpected smile on her face when he walked in, shuffling around the room awkwardly.

Éponine was thankful she had at least _tried_ to clean up her room before the accident. Still, there were several dresses lying here and there, and a clean undergarment or two. Enjolras' cheeks were already turning slightly red by the time he'd only been in the room for a couple of seconds. Éponine smirked to herself and set down her book.

"Enjolras," she said brightly, relieved that he had finally come to talk to her. She wanted to ask him a question.

"Éponine," he said, looking around her room slowly, still holding the tray a little too high to look comfortable.

"Here. Let me have that, please," she said, reaching for the tray. He willingly set it in her lap and stood back, hands clasped behind his back. "Sit down, won't you?" she asked, motioning to the chair beside her bed in which Alda usually curled up. "I've been getting a little lonely.."

He chuckled, the tension easing slightly. "I must admit, so have I. There's been no one to argue with or.. correct." He raised an eyebrow at her as he sat down and Éponine's eyes widened; had Enjolras just sassed her? The thought of Enjolras joking around or sassing someone was enough to make her laugh quietly.

He regarded her with a confused look. "What is it?"

Éponine waved her hand, smiling too hard. "I didn't think you were a joking man, Enjolras."

Her husband shifted in his chair, pulling his jacket a little tighter. "I'm not." When she raised her eyebrow at him, he sighed, a tiny smile present on his lips. "Most of the time I am not."

"That's more like it," she replied, taking a bite of her food. "I'm glad you came to see me this afternoon," she said, pushing her food away. Living on the streets meant that she grew accustomed to stale, bland food, if she even got that; getting used to decadent food, and food all the time, was putting Éponine's stomach on edge. Enjolras frowned as she pushed it away, but he didn't say anything.

"Why is that?" he asked after a moment.

"Why do you hate swimming so much?" she asked quietly. She'd seen the way he forced her into promising not to swim anymore, and the way he warily watched the water every time she had gone to the boat house before. Maybe he was just afraid, but Éponine felt like there was something more.

Enjolras raked a hand through his curls, leaving some up on end. Éponine had the wifely urge to straighten them back down, but she held firm, biting her lip.

"My mother has given birth to three children, you know-"

"Three!"

He paused and stared at her, smirking. "Three. Clemence being the eldest, then myself, then our younger brother, Xavier."

"Xavier? I've never seen him before. He should be in the house, correct? He's too young to be on his own.." Éponine trailed off; her brother was out on his own and he was barely ten. Of course, Enjolras did not know that. They hardly knew anything about each other, she reminded herself.

Enjolras closed his eyes in annoyance. "Would you let me finish?"

Éponine colored and looked down at her lap. "Yes. I'm sorry."

"Xavier was six years old when he died. We went on a trip to the southern part of France; my father's brother lives there. He lived close to the coast, so naturally, we went to the ocean one day. Xavier drowned."

Éponine put a hand to her mouth, stifling a gasp. "Oh, Enjolras, I didn't-"

But he wasn't listening. He was staring a hole into Éponine's wardrobe, continuing on as if she wasn't even there. "He'd been so excited about going to the ocean. The sand and all that. I was much older, for he was the surprise of us all. Mother and Father babied him quite terribly, and he was a real pest. When he got to the shore, he immediately began building sandcastles with Clemence, who adored him more than my mother. They built the loveliest sandcastles that day. They washed away, just like Xavier." At the last comment, Enjolras' wet eyes jerked open and he stood up suddenly.

Éponine lowered her hand from her mouth. If something like that ever happened to Gavroche, she didn't know what she would do. God, Enjolras was more broken than he looked. At that moment, she really wished she could stand up and kiss him. Just to try and wipe away his troubles. He wasn't all that bad; he genuinely cared about others. Just not her..

Enjolras looked down at her with a piercing glance. "Why do you do that, Éponine?"

Éponine frowned and pulled herself up, trying to make herself look bigger. "Do what?"

"Why do you drag those sort of things out of me? I've never told anyone about Xavier; not even Combeferre, and we're the closest of friends. Once I start talking to you, I just can't stop and everything just comes pouring out. God, I can't-"

"Enjolras!"

"-even begin to explain how irritating that is!"

"Enjolras, I didn't ask to hear about your life; you just told me." The woman frowned deeply.

Enjolras paced to the end of her bed and held onto the post with an iron grip. "Damn, Éponine, I probably shouldn't even be in here." He raked his hand through his hair again; Éponine sighed and looked away.

He was looking for a way out. He needed a way out. She was bad, very bad. Xavier.. Lord, those memories hurt. The memories of his mother gushing over him, treating him, kissing him.. His father holding him up on a pedestal, forgetting about his middle. Éponine brought those things back to him with her kind eyes, the way she just listened.. So, when the front door was knocked on downstairs, and Adoulf opened it, Enjolras had found a way out. He stared at Éponine one last time and felt a dull pang.

She was looking away very decidedly. He'd done it again: he'd hurt her when he hadn't meant to. Grunting, Enjolras ripped the tray off her lap, causing her to jump. Then he exited the room quickly without a second thought about his prying wife.

He took the back way downstairs, avoiding the visitors. The women in the kitchen (Since when had they had so much staff?) jumped to attention as he set the tray down awkwardly; he scampered from the kitchen like the school boy he was. But he slowed to a leisurely walk upon entering the foyer.

"Ah! There he is. _Monsieur, Monsieur et Madame _Weller," Adoulf introduced before backing out of the room to go spread the gossip.

Master Enjolras' sister had arrived!

Enjolras swallowed hard, staring at his sister with wide eyes. She looked the same: beautiful, rich. Her husband, too. And their baby. _They'd had a baby_, Enjolras thought. He'd missed his sister, if he was going to be honest. She had an infectious smile, like Éponine's...

He shook his head and smiled warily. "Clemence?"

Clemence shifted the baby in her arms; Simon (Wasn't that his name?) smiled behind her, his hand protectively resting on her shoulders. "_Bonsoir, _Enjolras. This is Charles, by the way."

He suddenly laughed and stepped forward, enveloping his sister into a tight hug. She gasped slightly and hugged him back, only with one arm. The baby smooched between them gurgled and reached for Enjolras' hair. When he pulled back, he noticed she was crying. He was struggling to keep the tears away, too. What with Éponine's scare, his story of Xavier, Clemence's return, it was nearly all he could take.

Simon chuckled and held out his hand, which Enjolras shook. "Good evening, Enjolras. We may have met twice, but I don't really recall," the man said, laughing. Clemence turned and beamed up at him.

"Yes. Yes! Simon, I remember," Enjolras said. "Come. Into the drawing room." They followed him inside and situated themselves around the coffee table. Clemence bounced the child on her lap. "What brings you here?" he asked finally, leaning forward, forgetting all about his wife upstairs desperately wondering what all the noise was about.

"Mother and Father, really." Clemence made a face and Enjolras smirked.

"What have they done now?" he groaned.

"What haven't they?" Simon grunted in agreement and leaned back on the sofa, an arm slung over the back.

Enjolras mirrored his actions and relaxed, leaning back, before standing slowly. "Gather your thoughts while I go fetch some tea."

"Oh, no," Clemence said hastily, shoving Charles onto Simon's lap. "Let me; I know where it is. You two talk, and then we'll talk." She patted her brother's arm. "We have much to catch up on."

He nodded. "Yes, sister. It appears we do."

She smiled and stood, ruffling his hair the way she used to, before skirting out of the room.

* * *

Instead of heading straight for the kitchen, Clemence made a detour for Éponine's room. She made an educated guess based upon the door flung wide open and the soft humming coming through. The young woman smiled as she entered, running forward and hugging Éponine with all her might. The other woman, caught completely off-guard, shrieked, before realizing who it was.

"Clemence!" she cried, pulling back, brushing a piece of hair out of her mouth. "What are you doing here?"

"Éponine, darling! How are you?" She sat on the bed, patting Éponine's leg. The woman winced and drew back. Clemence frowned and pulled her hand away. "What happened?"

"A lake accident," Éponine admitted.

Clemence giggled. "Goodness! Broken?"

"Sprained. Two weeks off of it."

"Good Lord."

Éponine nodded. "I don't know how I'll be able to survive. I need something to do! I need to keep busy! I've never just done.. nothing.. before."

Clemence smiled. "I was wondering where you were when you didn't come down to greet us with Enjolras."

"Just stuck up here." She rolled her eyes.

Clemence leaned closer. "Well, if Enjolras doesn't mind, we'll stay until you can begin to walk. I'd love to see the rest of the house with you, catch up." Clemence raised her eyebrow. "Has he done any-"

"Whatever it is you're asking, probably not." Éponine smirked. She'd rather not tell her sister-in-law about their heated kisses earlier on, the ones that still plagued both Enjolras' and Éponine's dreams.

Clemence shook her head, her curls bobbing; she chuckled. "Well, give him time."

"I don't want whatever it is you're alluding to."

Clemence looked to her left and smirked. "I'm sure. Now, darling Éponine, I will be back up tomorrow morning, and we will convince our husbands to allow you to get out of bed. Until then, rest." She patted Éponine's knee, and stood up, flashing her a smile, and then leaving the room.

Éponine grinned at her lap. Alda had failed where Clemence would not. Éponine might have a friend, after all.


	14. Dinner Parties

_**A/N: **I was so excited (again) because I just love this chapter, and a lot of things are updating tonight, so I was like, "Okay. This is happening." *le sigh* I hope some of your faces crack cause you're smiling so wide; it could happen. :D  
_

_**Pairings: **__E/__É__; more to come_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

* * *

_Dinner Parties_

True to her word, Clemence convinced Enjolras to allow Éponine to spend her next few days on the couch in the drawing room. That way, she was more connected with the visitors in the house. After a week of her ankle being swollen, Enjolras avoiding her altogether, and Clemence trying to reassure her of whatever, the doctor pronounced Éponine clear to be able to hobble about.

The wrap would remain on for awhile, but he was astounded as to how quick of a healer she was. Éponine tried not to let it get to her. She knew why she healed so fast, but she knew it wasn't her place to say. Because of the recent revelation, Clemence was thoroughly excited. She had something up her sleeve, and Éponine could tell.

On a cool Monday evening, a week and three days after the accident, Éponine was rubbing some cream on her bruised and slightly swollen ankle when Clemence bounded out the front door, dropping beside Éponine on the veranda. The woman elbowed the other and Éponine looked up.

"Yes?"

"I'm throwing you and Enjolras a house-warming party."

"Excuse me," Éponine deadpanned. "No. You're not."

Clemence raised an eyebrow and leaned back. "Sure I am. I've already sent the invitations out."

"Clemence Weller, I can't believe you!" Although she was full of surprise and annoyance, Éponine couldn't help but smile at her sister-in-law's antics.

"Éponine Enjolras, I'm-" Éponine drew in a sharp breath and Clemence stopped talking, sitting back up. "What is it?"

Éponine shook her head roughly. "Nothing. That just sounds-"

"Odd?" Clemence filled in.

"Yes.."

"Is it a good odd?"

Éponine shook her head. "I'm not sure. I've never heard it said before, and I'd rather not hear it again, if you don't mind."

Clemence sighed. "Why do the pair of you hate each other so much? Rogier is a wonderful man, Éponine."

"Oh, I'm sure," she replied, throwing a twig at her feet. "And we don't hate each other.. anymore. We're merely civil. Clemence, he doesn't want me, and I don't want to be in the way. Besides, I have my sister to think about.. I need to get her out of there."

Clemence rubbed her nose. "Éponine, I think Enjolras enjoys your company more than you know." Éponine shook her head. "No, really! When you were stuck in bed, he was agitated and worried. I've never seen him like that, and now that you can walk around, he seems to be settling down. Like it or not, Enjolras is fond of you."

"He's not."

Clemence shrugged. "Believe what you will, but the two of you are destined for one another. You're the most stubborn, argumentative, hardhearted bastards in the world!" Éponine laughed. "And I want the both of you to be happy."

Éponine smiled and patted her friend's hand. "Thank you."

Clemence smiled back. "Now, about this party-"

"The one that isn't happening." Éponine raised an eyebrow and fiddled with her skirt.

"The one that is, actually. I didn't invite many people; Enjolras would likely throw up. But, I did some snooping, like you, and I invited his little group, a few of my friends who will surely become yours, and some distant cousins. Most have accepted. One in particular- Grantaire, I think his name was- seemed very excited."

Éponine sighed and shook her head. "And what of my ankle, huh?"

"It's not until next week. You should be fine by then, dear. Don't try and get out of this!"

"Enjolras is going to strangle you."

"So, you're alright with this," the sister squealed.

Éponine sighed and stood up, heading inside with much effort. "If I have to be."

Clemence rushed forward beside her sister-in-law and kissed her cheek. "You won't regret this, Éponine! You'll have fun, don't worry about anything."

* * *

When the evening of the party finally rolled around, Éponine was actually excited. Her hands were trembling slightly as she worked on buttoning herself up. Instead of the party being held indoors, it was set outside because of the extremely nice weather, nearby the pond, which had been adorned with paper lanterns along the side. There was a large tent set up with tables underneath and Clemence was brimming with enthusiasm. Enjolras and Simon both had been opposed to the idea at first, but they soon relaxed and Enjolras found himself at ease with the idea of hosting a gathering.

Éponine's ankle was nearly healed, but she decided to wear simple flats to deter heightening her pain anymore than she had to. For her dress, she had chosen a simple green dress of a soft cotton. Of all the colors in the world, green was her least favorite, but it made her hair stand out when it didn't look too bad, and she was having a good hair day, so she was appeasing herself. Clemence didn't know it, but she had inadvertently planned the party for Éponine's two month wedding anniversary.

She could hardly believe it herself. Two months and it hadn't completely been hell. Éponine smirked to herself and pushed her hair away from her face. She was content where she was now. She had Clemence's company, books to read, and Enjolras to argue with. She was... happy, which was what worried her.

Éponine gave herself one more glance before she exited her room. While she was excited for this party, she was a tad bit nervous as well. She'd never met Enjolras' friends before, besides the three that were present at her accident. She hoped they all weren't dreadful.

Clemence met her at the top of the stairs and the two walked down, arm-in-arm, going over the last minute details. The guests were scheduled to arrive at any moment, so Simon and Enjolras were already waiting in the drawing room, a glass of whiskey already in hand. Clemence left Éponine at the door way and went to loop her arm around Simon's, who was too busy talking to Enjolras about the rebellion to notice. Simon had become rather enraptured by the idea every since Enjolras brought it up at dinner one night. He was convinced Enjolras was doing the right thing, and though he would never tell Clemence, he was intent on joining up as well.

Éponine walked slowly up to Enjolras' side, but she kept her arms together, and she stared out the window. He looked more ravishing than usual. In a tighter suit, not too flashy, completely Enjolras. Éponine could feel her heart beat quickly at the sight of him. Clemence gave her a look that said, "Do something," but she shook her head, shooting her a look back. It was then that the first guest arrived: Clemence's dear friend Anastasia. Clemence introduced her husband, Éponine, and Enjolras and then sent Anastasia's husband in with the men, while she dragged her women off to the dining room.

As the guests began to trickle in, it was obviously a man's world. In total, by the end of the night, there had only been about six women in all, while they were outnumbered by at least ten to fifteen men. Oh well; Éponine liked it that way. She'd much rather be in the company of men than women, but she found herself straddled to talk of babies, and cooking, and cleaning, and pillow talk the whole night. Several times a rather forward young woman named Lucy asked Éponine whether or not Enjolras was "adequate in the bedroom." Éponine brushed her questions off with untestable lies, like always.

By dinner time, Éponine was simply done. She didn't know how Clemence did it: kept the ever present smile on her face, made everyone feel welcome. Well, she must have had practice, but Éponine did feel like doing this again in the future. Finally, she was able to sit down. She was placed beside her husband, on the end of the table full of his friends. There had to be at least nine of them and they were all talking at once, not listening to anyone at all. Éponine's head was pounding terribly. Beside her, Enjolras was deep in conversation with a man on his other side.

After awhile of her just pushing around her food, making small talk with Lucy, Enjolras suddenly had his hand on her shoulder. She jumped. They hadn't touched, talked, in ages. He had completely left her alone after the afternoon he told her about Xavier; even when they passed in the halls, he gave her the cold shoulder. She had only thought that he was slightly embarrassed from nearly crying, but she didn't think he was go so far as to just abandon her. Then again, this was Enjolras; God only knew what was going on in that thick head of his.

He was leaning forward to address his friends, so she assumed he was making introductions.

"Gentlemen," he said. "This is my.. wife, Éponine." She gave them a hesitant smile, which they returned with bright ones. It was clear they found this amusing. "Éponine, may I introduce to you Combeferre, Jehan Prouvaire, Feuilly, Courfeyrac, Bahorel, Bossuet, and Grantaire."

They all gave her some sort of greeting and then they went back to their own conversations. Éponine let out a breath of relief, glad they hadn't insisted on talking, and Enjolras sniggered.

"Thought they would bite?"

She turned and glared up at him. "No."

He raised an eyebrow at her and took a bite of his meat. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

She shrugged. "It's all well and good, but I'm sure this is more of Clemence's sort of thing. I can't keep anyone straight or if I'm related to them now or not. Surely you feel this way, too?"

He more or less nodded. "Father used to throw parties a lot when I was younger. Mind you, there was dancing, but I do not dance, which is why I am thankful Simon took that away."

"You know, I could see you as a marvelous dancer, Rogier." Éponine winked and leaned back in her chair while Enjolras shook his head.

"I have two left feet, Éponine. You wouldn't want to dance with me."

She scoffed and turned back to her plate, feeling rather haughty and irritated at the moment. "I didn't say I wanted to dance with you either way." Luckily, she missed the unmasked pain that flitted across her husband's face for a few seconds. He righted himself then and cleared his throat.

"Good, because, I _do not _dance," he whispered, staring at her, though, she was looking away.

* * *

Once everyone had finally left and some of the cleaning had been done and Clemence and Simon had retired for the night, Éponine found herself alone with Enjolras watching the last of the horses or carriages ride away. In spite of what they had originally thought, the night had gone well, and they had both enjoyed themselves. It seemed as if they did that often: judged something before it came to pass.

Enjolras let out a loud, short sigh all of a sudden. Éponine glanced up at him and he shrugged off his outer jacket. "Remind me to tell Clemence to rub my aching feet tomorrow," she said quietly, moving to sit beside him on the couch.

Enjolras laughed and nodded. "How is your ankle then?"

"It's sore." She shrugged, flipping off her shoes. Enjolras looked away, sure his face was heating. Why was he so jumpy all of a sudden? "But I can walk."

"I'm glad."

"Your friends seem jovial."

"They are certainly a hand full, but they're good men."

"Willing to get themselves killed for France?" she asked, standing up to reach for some water. She could feel Enjolras staring at the back of her head. "Or for you?"

"For France," he shot back, an edge on his voice. She nodded, humming, leaning against a desk.

"You know," she started. "We've been married for two months today." Éponine didn't know what compelled her to tell him, but she did, and his reaction was one of indifference.

"Oh."

"It's been a heavy two months," she whispered, looking away, glancing at the ring on her finger; the one she never _had_ taken off for reasons unknown.

"That is has been."

Éponine closed her eyes. Did he have anything to say? Did he not realize that he had changed in the past two months, as well as she? When they'd first met, he'd been hard as stone; now, he was still difficult to talk to, but he cared now. They were.. friends. At least, she'd like to think so. Telling Enjolras about his parents had been her best decision yet. He was much more relaxed and humorous now. She wished he could see that, though. Why did men always have to be so blind?

"Has your opinion changed of me, then? Am I still a bought product in your eyes?" The words were harsh and uncalled for, Éponine knew, but she needed him to say something, to _feel _something. Even if it was anger.

He shrugged and stood up, crossing to the window. "You were never a bought product, Éponine. Just a girl caught in the wrong place."

"Well, do you still not want me?"

Enjolras considered it for a moment. If he was to _not_ want Éponine any longer, if she were to leave, there would certainly be a tiny little hole that she left in his life. She filled some spot in his heart that he couldn't quite place or understand. They'd created such a routine of avoiding one another, of arguing, of trying not to the think of the other all day but failing. If that routine were to disappear, all Enjolras would have left was the rebellion.

That's all that he had been with before. And if he was going to be honest, he didn't want that; not anymore. He realized that he needed something else to fulfill his life.

She'd changed him from a marble statue to a slightly-less hard statue, one that was cracked and sometimes gently swayed in harsh winds. Éponine was certainly his gust of wind. He smirked at his feet, shaking his head. Yes, the past two months had been heavy and life changing.

"No," he began. "I would like for you to stay." He turned around and gave her a soft smile, which she returned as equally soft.

"Good, because I'm never going home," she chuckled.

"I wouldn't allow it," Enjolras whispered, stepping closer.

Éponine cleared her throat and stepped away from the desk. "Do you really not dance, Enjolras?"

"No, I don't."

"Can you, though?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Would you teach me? Just a small dance."

Enjolras raised an eyebrow and pointed to her foot. "Your ankle though."

"Tosh. I'll be fine," she said, smiling brightly.

"Well," he coughed. "Just a small one."

And so he taught her a simpler form of the waltz. Éponine took to it surprisingly quick. They moved together like machinery: Éponine's hand in his own, her other on his shoulder. Enjolras holding her closer and closer each step until she was nearly flush against him. Their dance slowed down until they were stock still in front of the dead fireplace. Both were silent, too busy trying to calm their breathing and get a grip on reality. Enjolras stared deep into Éponine's eyes and it frightened her just a little as to how intense he was. The moon shinned brightly through the open window and a cool breeze swept in and pulled the sides of Éponine's dress up slightly.

Éponine's mouth went dry, and for a moment, she was unable to speak. "Enjolras, I-" she finally said, but he cut her off.

"My father has only ever accomplished one thing in his life, Éponine, and that's trying to do what he thinks is best, yet failing terribly. He's a horrid lawyer, a cruel husband, and even worse father. But, that aside, he did accomplish a little feat," he whispered, licking his lips.

"What's that?" Éponine whispered, holding onto his arms tightly.

"He chose you," he replied.

Éponine felt her heart take flight. And suddenly, Enjolras was kissing her softly. He'd moved his hands to cup her face and Éponine felt herself falter for a moment. Unlike their first kiss, this one was not on purpose. This one was.. It was real. There was no way in hell that he'd planned on kissing her that night, nor had she planned on kissing him. Éponine could feel how much Enjolras meant what he was doing. She'd given up on her end of the bargain. She didn't care anymore because she had a roof over her head and that's all that mattered.

But Enjolras was kissing her. _Bloody kissing her! _And he was good at it, too! His lips were terribly soft and pleasant and she couldn't help but hold him so close she nearly enveloped him. Her heart was flipping and her stomach was churning, in a good way. She'd never felt like this before.

Her husband was showing affection. The man of marble was affectionate. Toward _her. _

He smelled of whiskey and the outdoor night air. She smelled of perfume Clemence had insisted she wore and the sun.

He pulled back and Éponine whimpered, already missing the contact. Their breathing was even more labored than after their dance. Enjolras felt like he was going to burst. That had been a bad move, but dear God, it had been the right one. He opened his mouth to say something, but failed to make any noise.

He needed to move away. But he couldn't risk hurting her again. So, he dipped down and stole another kiss before untangling himself. Éponine remained, dumb-struck, in the drawing room as he hastened away for his own room, stumbling like a drunk fool.

The problem was, Enjolras was no where even near drunk.

Rogier Enjolras was falling in love with his wife. And nothing could stop that.

* * *

_I AM DANCING IN MY SEAT. _


	15. Seasons

_**A/N: **__THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 202 REVIEWS! AND ONLY FOURTEEN CHAPTERS IN, TOO! I love you all so much. :D_

_**Pairings: **__E/__É; (hopefully) more to come_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

* * *

_Seasons_

With the changing of both Enjolras' and Éponine's hearts, came the changing of seasons. Their marriage had taken place late in February; the party had been in late April; and Enjolras suddenly left to go on a "business" trip, then, in the middle of June.

After he had kissed her that night, all those months ago, Éponine went to bed with a nagging thought in her head: did she love Enjolras? Probably not. She wouldn't know what love was if it hit her in the face. She'd never experienced it before. Of course, with 'Parnasse, that was far from love. It was more possession. Her parents never showed her love either. So, why did she feel so lighthearted when she passed her husband in the halls? And why did they insist on playing their stupid game?

They would talk quite amiably for a few days, then someone would say something offensive in one of their arguments and the other would get up and leave. They would play the silent treatment for a few days after and then things went back to normal; it was a never ending cycle. Except now, after Enjolras had kissed her so, Éponine found that sometimes their hands would touch and they would let them stray at little too long. Or sometimes, when a random visitor came to call, he would wrap an arm around her shoulder during her introduction. Once even, he'd kissed her goodnight. Éponine didn't know what was going on between them, but she wasn't complaining because underneath his hard outside, he was a damn good kisser and a damn good hugger.

Simon and Clemence found it all terribly humorous and they were sad to say goodbye when they felt it was time to leave. Éponine was sad to see her sister-in-law go, but she knew she would see her again. Maybe during the holidays if they were lucky.

The heat was unbearable during the summer months in Paris. Though Enjolras and Éponine were situated well beyond the main city, they were still affected with waves of heat and annoying horseflies. Enjolras left for his trip on a Tuesday, right after supper. He was rather short with Éponine when she asked him where she was going, not really giving her a direct answer. All he said was that he was going somewhere with Combeferre and he would be back within two weeks. She'd been unable to drag anything else out of him.

So, Éponine was left alone that Tuesday night, and she had been alone for the next few days. Vipond was away for a two week vacation and Alda had seemed to run off completely. Éponine was a little hurt at first, but Adoulf was good company, actually. Once again, though, Éponine was without a friend. And that hurt, a lot more than she cared to admit.

One week from Tuesday, Éponine sat in her husband's library, reading another book when she faintly heard the sound of the front door opening. Thinking it could be Enjolras, Éponine's heart began to beat. She set her book down slowly and rose, heading from the room with a calmness she certainly didn't feel. Once reaching the top of the staircase, she almost threw up a little.

Not Enjolras.

Better yet, how about her father and his little.. group.

Just as she began to shrink away to the nearest room, her father looked up. "Darlin', there you are!" he crooned, holding his arms out. Éponine twitched her nose and stood in place. "Well, don't just stand there; come on down here and tell me hello!"

Éponine sighed and took the stairs painfully slow. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Thénardier clucked his tongue. "That's no warm welcome."

"You're not exactly welcome," she spat, folding her arms across her chest.

Thénardier sighed and nodded. "Fair enough, I suppose. We came to check in on ya."

"There's no need," she replied, looking away. "I'm fine."

"That's good then. Did you fix him?" Her father wiggled his eyebrows, and Montparnasse, like the boy he was, giggled.

Éponine considered it for a moment. If anything, she had changed more than he. She'd learned quite a lot about herself. Enjolras had changed slightly. She often saw him relax more, and when his friends came over, they, too, seemed happier to be around him.

"I think so, yes."

Thénardier smiled brightly and clapped his hands together. "Wonderful! You can come home then!"

Éponine took a step back. "What?"

"You heard me," her father answered, the smile leaving his face. "We're going home, 'Ponine. Now. You've fixed the boy, and I still need you to do a few jobs for me here and there. You're of no use to this family anymore, but you can make yourself useful at home."

Éponine shook her head and hugged herself tighter. Leave? She couldn't leave! "I'm needed here, Papa."

"You really think some rich boy would want you?" He scoffed.

Éponine steeled herself and uncrossed her arms. "Maybe. I'm not sure yet.."

"Well, you won't ever be sure, because we're going home and _you're _coming with me! Is that clear?" he growled, taking a firm grip of her arm. Éponine twisted.

"It's clear, Father. But, I'm not coming."

With a strangled groan, Thénardier moved to grip Éponine's chin in a bone crushing clench. She winced, but kept eye contact. "You. Are. Coming. _Home._"

In a moment of rage and stupidity, Éponine flung what little spit she had onto her father's nose. He roared and pushed her back against the post of the steps. His hand raised and she watched it, as if in slow motion, clamp into a fist. There was pure fire in his eyes. If she ever thought that Bertrand was cruel, compared to her father now, he seemed to be an angel. She willed herself not to cower away, to face it like a man, but all the memories of when this had happened before flooded back and she shrunk back against the post slightly.

But the fist never fell; it was suspended in the air.

Éponine opened her eyes to see her father staring at her with an odd look in his eyes. "Why don't you want to come back, daughter?" he asked quietly, as if hurt deeply.

Éponine straightened herself. "Because I love my husband, Father." The air in the room rushed through an open window. Éponine laughed quietly, smiling at her toes. Yes. She did. She loved her husband. "I love him," she repeated, liking the way it sounded.

Her words were cut short when the fist finally landed on her cheek bone.

* * *

Enjolras and Combeferre dismounted their horses, in deep conversation. After 'Ferre had dropped by the past Monday afternoon to see if Enjolras wished to go on a short trip, Enjolras could hardly say no. He missed spending time with his dearest friend, and he also needed some time away to focus on the rebellion, and not his wife. The pair of them had been playing their cat-and-mouse game and Enjolras was tired of it. He knew that he loved her, but he couldn't exactly explain why. He knew the moment it dawned on him, though.

During the party, Éponine had struck up a very likely friendship with Grantaire. After he had apologized for his rude behavior earlier on, she quickly shook it off and the two talked like old friends. It seemed they enjoyed poking a little fun at Enjolras.

_Éponine held onto her side, hunched over slightly from her contained laughter. Grantaire, looking mighty proud of himself, was smiling along with her. She finally looked up and wiped a stay tear off her cheek. Enjolras held back a groan and looked away. He'd had enough of their "light" banter for one evening. _

"_Did you really do that, Rog – I mean, Enjolras?" She was smiling brightly at him, asking whether or not it was true that he mistook the owner of the café for a woman on more than one occasion. _

"_Oh, it's true alright," said Courfeyrac, coming to join in on the fun. Now, Enjolras really did groan. "Old Haggin's face was beyond enraged. I was afraid he might castrate the poor man and turn _him _into a woman." Courfeyrac laughed and flung an arm around Enjolras' shoulders; the other man shook it off. _

_Éponine pulled her broad grin down into a small smile and she placed her hand on his forearm. "You needn't be ashamed. Oh, darling, that's simply too rich!" she cried, striking up into a fit of laughter all over again._

_Enjolras rolled his eyes and walked away slowly. Darling? Had she called him darling? His heart thudded in his chest and he felt the need to jump into the lake. God, it was too hot under the tent. He pulled at his cravat and gulped, nearly audibly. The way she had looked at him, though, really hit home. She seemed so at ease, so happy. _

_Enjolras turned around and stared at her from across the room. She was.. beautiful. Something about her soft side that slipped through for a few seconds, and something about the way she fell so easily into her new life made Enjolras feel.. odd. He felt.. proud? Proud that he could bring her – though not exactly willingly on both parts – out of her rotten home into a new one. Proud that his terrible horror stories could provide her with amusement. If anything, Éponine needed more amusement in her life. _

_It suddenly dawned on him: he loved her. _

_And he was bent on telling her, too._

Except, he'd chickened out and merely kissed her with nearly everything he had. And then Combeferre came forward with his proposal to go visit some of the poor outside of Paris and he had said yes in haste, not exactly sure why. Their trip had been uneventful, boring even. He was glad to be home.

As the pair stepped into the kitchen, through the backdoor, Combeferre heard a faint thud. He put his hand on Enjolras' arm and the other man stopped talking, raising an eyebrow.

"What is it?" he asked, leaning forward ever so slightly.

Combeferre lifted a finger to his lips. "Listen," he whispered.

Enjolras looked toward the closed kitchen door and strained his ears. Whatever it was Combeferre had heard was probably just a mouse or maybe Éponine had found another cat. But when Combeferre tensed once more at his side, he frowned and listened a little harder. Instead of an occasional thud, the two heard voices instead. Enjolras instantly jumped to intruders. But where was Éponine? He prayed she was upstairs, hiding. Slowly, they inched toward the door and pressed their ears onto the wood.

All they could heard was muffled voices.

Enjolras inched the door open slightly so he could look out into the foyer. What he saw shocked him. He frowned and closed the door quickly.

"What was it?" Combeferre asked, excited.

"Éponine and a group of other men," he replied. She had referred to him as 'Father.' Enjolras cringed; he looked like the cruel man Éponine had painted. He reopened the door just in time to see her father raise his arm high above her head. Enjolras went to move forward, but Combeferre held him back.

"Wait. Wait. He asked her a question."

Enjolras shook the other man off, knowing exactly how it felt to have a fist looming above you. He took a step forward, only to stop once more.

"Because I love him," he heard her say, almost whisper. Then, she laughed, that perfect, bell-like laugh. And she repeated it. "I love him."

The fist finally fell and no matter how large Enjolras' heart felt, no matter how much he nearly wanted to weep, he couldn't let this happen to Éponine, to his wife. Not in his own house. He sprinted forward, not paying any mind to Combeferre behind him begging him to stop. He was on Éponine's father in seconds, only to be deterred by the men behind him. As his fists flew, sometimes landing where he wanted them to, sometimes only hitting the air, Éponine scrambled to her feet. She reached for the nearest vase on the banister, lifted it high above her head, and crashed it over top Brujon's fat skull. The man let go of her husband and Enjolras stumbled slightly, rubbing his neck where the other man had been holding him. No matter, though, because in a few seconds he controlled himself and sent a punch right into 'Parnasse's eye socket and he felled the remaining man.

All that was left was Éponine's father, who stood on the sidelines, rubbing his wounded cheekbone.

Enjolras forgot about him for a moment, and chest heaving, he clambered up the few steps it took to reach Éponine and pulled her flush into his arms. She, too, was trying to regain her breath. Combeferre took this time to, calmly, walk out and lower Thénardier with a blow to the back of the skull with a frying pan. He nodded once, looking at Enjolras over Éponine's shoulder, stepped over a few of the bodies on the floor, and straightened his waistcoat.

"I'll be in the kitchen. Drinking," he said, rolling his eyes. "Welcome back to Paris," he muttered.

Enjolras couldn't help but smile in relief as he clung to Éponine. She was shaking slightly, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. He sighed and ran a hand through the ends of her hair.

She was safe. She was safe.

_And she loved him._

He pulled back for a moment, smiling slightly. Éponine rubbed her eyelid and bit her lower lip. "You're home early," she whispered.

Enjolras chuckled and nodded.

She looked over her shoulder and cocked her head toward the mess of a broken blue vase on the floor. "I'm sorry about the mess."

He shrugged. "I never did like that vase."

She smiled at her toes, then looked back up, the smile replaced with a worried stare. "Did you – Did you hear?" She looked away, her breathing rather erratic again.

He held her chin in his fingers and nodded. "Yes."

"Oh," she breathed, sounding disappointed.

"What is it?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. It's nothing." Éponine pulled herself away from Enjolras, and suddenly very tired, made her way up the stairs.

He grabbed her wrist and she stopped, turning around. "If it's any consolation," he said quietly. "I think I might love you, too."

Éponine breathed out a sigh and took another step down. "Really?" She didn't exactly know what to do then. She.. She wanted to fall down. It was all too much: her father, the pulsing bruise on her cheek, Enjolras and the fact that _he _loved her back.

So, that's what she did, except a little less gracefully than she would have liked. Éponine buried her face in her hands and shook her head. Enjolras chuckled nervously and twitched his foot.

"Éponine," he whispered, bending down near her head. "Éponine, what's wrong?"

She looked up and their faces were so close their noses were nearly touching and all Enjolras wanted to do was kiss her, but he pulled back instead. "Why would _you _love _me_?" she whispered.

With a small groan, Enjolras fell beside her on the step. "Because I just do."

"That's no answer," she retorted, glaring at him.

He smiled, despite her anger. "It just happened, Éponine. I suppose it was bound to anyway." He nudged her with his elbow. "Wasn't it supposed to happen like that?"

She shook her head, biting her nail. "No."

"Well why not?"

"You're too good for someone like me. I can't go up with all of your-"

"Stop," he whispered, shaking his head, staring at his toes, tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. "You're just what I need, all right."

She sighed. "All we do is argue."

"Because we're scared."

Éponine looked up and gave him a soft smile. "All we will do is _continue _to argue."

He smiled back and rubbed his thumb over her forming bruise. "As long as we promise to never go to bed angry."

She nodded. "If you think that's possible.."

"Good." Enjolras felt his smile fade slightly. "I really do apologize deeply for anything that I could have said that hurt you, Éponine."

She nudged him with her shoulder. "Likewise."

"I'm being serious."

"I know." She nodded. "I am sorry this all ever even happened-"

"I'm not."

Éponine looked back and sighed, a thin smile on her face. "Have we come to an agreement then: to argue, never go to bed angry, and always try to be happy, no matter what?" Enjolras licked his lips and nodded. "I can live on those terms, I think."

"I am thankful."

Éponine colored and looked away before looking back just as quick. Enjolras was already leaning in and she felt her heart beat faster. "Say it," she whispered. "Indulge me."

He smirked and pecked her lips quickly. "I love you," he whispered, his voice low and gravely. Éponine shivered. "I am thoroughly in love with you," he repeated, kissing her softly. Éponine wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling herself closer. He pulled back for a second. "And I don't even mind it at all."

And they kissed. Husband and wife, they kissed, deeper, more deliciously, and more loving than ever before.

* * *

_Yeah. So.. this happened. ;D_


	16. Clichés

_**A/N: **__So, I was going to do another shout-out thing, but then I started it, and it took a billion years. Thus, I gave up. So, I'm going to say a general "Thank you. I love you. Let's all go get married. There is a lot of story left, don't worry!"_

_I think that covered most of it. ;)_

_**Pairings: **__E__**/**__É; (i'm so done.)_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Thanks. Bye. **_

* * *

_Clich__é__s_

To say that Enjolras and Éponine fell into married life with great ease would be a lie that made the devil ashamed. After Thenarider and his gang had been dealt with, Combeferre had offered his congratulations and left soon afterward; the dramatic air in the house slowly faded away. If anything, things went back to normal.

Éponine went outside with Rogier to retrieve his bag and the two walked back into the house, chatting amiably like they always had. Their lives would never be filled with the terrible clichéd actions of hand-holding or adorable little nicknames that made others gag. They would keep their romance to themselves, and rightfully so.

Enjolras held the door open for his wife, smiling all the way. She really was terribly beautiful. "Really though, Rogier," she continued. "Tell me about your trip."

Enjolras sighed and again admitted to himself that she made even Rogier sound attractive. She slipped underneath his arm and wrapped her own around his waist, following wherever he may lead, which happened to be the boat house.

"We visited the poor," he said. "That is all."

"Was it not gratifying?"

"Not particularly. We stayed with Combeferre's uncle, who is very well-to-do. We may have ventured out to talk with the beggars only twice. But it was nice to get away from the hustle and the bustle of Paris."

"Well, I am sorry it wasn't everything you wanted it to be," she whispered, stepping into the lone boat, hunkering down beside him.

Enjolras shrugged and wrapped his arm back around her shoulder. Why did this feel so easy? Maybe because it was... Éponine reached up and pulled a tiny leaf from his hair.

"The holidays will be here before you know it," she said, twirling the leaf in her fingers. Enjolras stared intently at the movement, nodding. "What will we do for them?"

"Nothing too grand, if you don't mind. Holidays have never been my strong suit."

She chuckled and the movement shook Enjolras lightly. "What is your strong suit, Enjolras?" she asked, peering up at him through her lashes. Enjolras swallowed and looked at the wall, clearing his throat.

He ignored her question and continued on. "We could spend the holidays with Clemence."

Éponine rearranged herself and sat up slightly, her one arm resting fully on Enjolras' chest. A bright smile graced her face. "Oh. I'd like that very much."

Enjolras nodded. "It's settled then. I'll write Simon tomorrow."

Éponine slid back down, her head on Enjolras' shoulder. "What about your father and mother?" she whispered, feeling him still instantly. "Don't be cross," she said, slightly louder. "I only think that maybe we should visit them."

"Éponine, I will hear no one speak of my father, including you. Is that clear?" His voice was stern and commanding, much like Bertrand's. Éponine sighed and nodded. "Good."

There was a comfortable silence. Éponine felt very safe in Enjolras' arms. He, too, felt comforted by her soft-self. He must admit that he missed out on possibly finding a wife sooner. No one had told him it felt so good to hold someone, love someone... Then again, if he had married sooner, he would have never met Éponine.

Shifting, Enjolras brought her even closer. She pressed a soft kiss to the skin of his neck. Enjolras felt the back of his neck redden as she continued her ministrations, moving farther north. He coughed, rubbing her shoulder.

"Now – Now, Éponine. I don't want you to feel like you're obligated to-"

She silenced him with a kiss and then looked at him with hooded eyes. "I don't."

"Well, don't you think that maybe we should wait a little?" he breathed, becoming quite breathless from her incessant kisses. He felt her shake her head.

"Do you?"

Enjolras pulled away and thought about for a moment. They had only just confessed their love, though it was in the early stages. If Enjolras did this with Éponine, for one, their marriage would be officially consummated. They couldn't turn back, even if they wanted to. Secondly, they ran the risk of creating a child. It wasn't that Enjolras didn't want a child; he felt that he could, in time, when the time came. But with the rebellion, if she did become pregnant, he would have his new family to think about. Could he really give up his family? Could he let go of all of his hard work? Could be betray his friends – and Patria – like that?

Enjolras knew that he could not put this off for too long. Soon, he would become restless, wanting it just as much as she would. People could begin to ask questions, too. Enjolras had money, that was for sure. Even though he was sure his father had cut him off, he had money in the bank and in a trust fund. He would need an heir. He couldn't let the money just sit there. He could raise a child to know how to use it properly, to help better mankind.

He sighed and ran a hand over his face. He hated how much his brain worked. Sometimes, he wished he could shut it off for a moment or two. He wanted this. He wanted to love Éponine fully and completely. All he wanted was to make her happy. Weighing the pros and cons was something he felt he shouldn't be doing in this situation. Any other man would jump at the chance to take Éponine to their bed. She was smart, and lively, and beautiful. He should be feeling those things, yet he was not.

_He _was feeling obligated.

As much as he wanted to pull her up in his arms and do it then and there, he could not. When – and if – he would, it would be when he finally learned how to shut off his damnable brain. But for now, he felt awkward and all he wanted was a nice long bath to wash away the dirt of his trip.

Slowly, Enjolras shook his head. He knew it would hurt her, but he was an honest man. He could not lie to Éponine anymore.

"Yes. I do. I think we should wait.." Behind closed eyes, he could imagine the rage and shame crossing her face. He felt her warm body move, and soon, it was gone, along with the boat house door slamming shut. Enjolras sank down in the boat, his face in his hands.

What a mess of a wonderful day.

* * *

Stinging from shame and rejection, Éponine stormed into the house. In the early evening hours, it was cold. The marble everywhere added to the sting as she took the steps quickly. It was a marble palace built for her marble man.

She had done something wrong; she was sure of it. He was displeased. With a grunt, Éponine threw herself onto her bed and wrinkled her nose, tucking her hands beneath her chin. Everything inside of Éponine burned. She felt her face red from shame and her eyes pooling with unnecessary tears. It all derived back to the same thing: no one wanted her.

Éponine knew that she loved Enjolras. She didn't know how and she didn't know why, but she did. She thought he loved her as well. Just because he had refused to take her didn't mean that he didn't, though. She tried to remind herself of that. She tried to not be a petty woman. Éponine was _trying_ to be rational.

This was bloody Enjolras she was thinking about! The man that had once gotten very drunk in the second month of their marriage and she had found him at the crack of dawn yelling at a potted plant, taking out all of his frustrations on it. The same man who had taken in yet another stray cat. The one who sometimes would look at her with softness, but could silence her with one look for days. He made no sense. Yet she loved him?

Éponine rolled over onto her back, rubbing a stray tear off her check. Her bedroom door opened and she reached for her pillow, ready to attack if he dared step one foot inside.

"Éponine," he whispered.

She waited. "What?"

"May I come in?" Éponine sat up and regarded his slumped shoulders and downcast eyes. She looked to her left and the nodded. He took a step inside and then closed the door. "I wanted to explain myself," he said, hands clasped behind his back.

Éponine lifted her chin and frowned slightly. "Go ahead then."

He sighed heavily and looked away, crossing to the window. He willed himself to be painfully honest with her. Unlike his parent's marriage, filled with lies, deceit, and adultery, Enjolras wanted his marriage with Éponine to be filled with honesty, patience, and faithfulness.

"You know that I love you, Éponine," he said, trying not to let her scoff phase him. "Though you may not believe it, I do; a great deal, actually. The reason that I feel obligated, or.. or pressured, to-" He cleared his throat, feeling incredibly awkward. "Consummate.. this marriage.. is not your fault. You haven't done anything wrong, I assure you. It's me."

Éponine wrinkled her nose, picking at a stray string on the bed. "If that's how you feel," she said.

Enjolras turned around from the window on his heel. "What?"

"I said, if that's how you feel. I won't question you. I was merely... embarrassed; that's why I left so quickly." Already a light pink stained her cheeks, but at the thought of her extreme embarrassment again, her cheeks turned a darker rose. She wanted to scream at him, hit him, but she didn't feel as though she had enough energy.

Enjolras ran a hand over his face and sat down gingerly in the plush seat next to Éponine's vanity. "I never meant to cause you shame or embarrassment."

She looked up, a faint smile on her lips. "I know, and I thank you for that. Most would jump at the chance."

Enjolras chuckled shortly. "As it seems, most would jump at the chance to shame me, as well."

Éponine raised an eyebrow and corrected him, "Embarrass you, maybe. Never shame you, Rogier. Your friends love you too dearly to do such a thing."

Enjolras leaned back and crossed his hands on his chest. "Yes. They are very dear to me," he whispered.

Éponine narrowed her eyes and scooted to the edge of the bed, their knees nearly touching. "Is that what you're so afraid of? You're afraid that you'll be drawn away from your friends if we have a child one day?"

Even at the sound of Éponine pondering that the future could hold children, Enjorlas felt his heart beat a little faster. He shrugged and ran his tongue over his teeth in thought. "Maybe so." In reality, though, she'd hit the nail on the proverbial head. She had a knack for that; he'd noticed so in their first weeks of marriage, when she realized why he was so stern with her: he was scared to let someone in.

Of course, she'd admitted to feeling the same.

Maybe now, then, she was having the same hesitations.

Enjolras looked away from the carpet, leaning forward. "Do you feel that way?"

Éponine only shrugged. "I have no real friends, Enjolras. Besides yourself and Vipond, I mean. I wouldn't want to be the one to hold you back, though."

Enjolras frowned and rested his hands on her knees, looking deep into her beautiful brown eyes. He smirked when a new blush crept up her neck and she looked away, squirming slightly. "You won't be holding me back, Éponine. You'll – You'll be helping me.. to.." Enjolras licked his lips and looked away for a moment. "You'll be helping me grow as a man and I do, I want to be a father." He stood up suddenly, feeling her questioning eyes on his back.

Maybe he was thinking this over too much.

Maybe a child would be something that he needed.

Maybe just _holding _her was something he needed.

After all, they had a year yet. Enjolras rested his head on his chin. Once again, he wished he was doing this out of pure love. As much as he adored Éponine and he did love her, the idea of having a child was too interesting to push to the back-burner. Having a child could help open his eyes to what the mothers and fathers of France were feeling. He could see how they struggled to make ends meet and how much toil and suffering they went through in order to see their child succeed. From a rebellion standpoint, the idea wouldn't effect the men directly, if at all. Yes, it was plausible.

"Rogier, what are you thinking about?" Her question startled Enjolras and he jumped, turning back around to face her.

Suddenly, he was holding her shoulders, and she smelled mint and parchment. She smiled and bit her lip. "Let's have a child," he whispered lowly.

Éponine gasped. "_What!_"

Enjolras laughed heartily and pressed a tiny kiss to her hand. "A child. Let's have a child."

Éponine frowned and tried not to let his hands roaming over her arms phase her. "Two moments ago, you hardly wanted to fu-" She caught herself and swallowed. "You hardly wanted to touch me, much less consummate our marriage! Now you want to have a child?!"

He nodded, a mischievous smile on his face.

Éponine fell back onto her ankles and Enjolras sat beside her, one hand on her leg, the other weaving through the ends of her hair.

"What made you change your mind so quickly?" she asked quietly, looking at him with such an unguarded look it made Enjolras' heart clench.

He laughed. "I suppose you could say my friends did." Éponine remained unconvinced and he sighed. "I want this; we can't deny our feelings any longer."

Éponine looked away and frowned. "But, I don't know if I'm ready to have a child."

Enjolras hadn't thought about that. Damn! "Well, we don't have to have one right away," he whispered, kissing her shoulder.

"Maybe it would be best for us," she replied, leaning into his touch. "I mean, we could wait awhile, but I want.. _you_."

"Maybe," he muttered against her skin, his heart stammering at her words.

"Maybe then this would feel.. real."

Enjolras lifted his head from her neck. He tried not to sound choked or hurt. "Yes."

Éponine blinked rapidly and wiped a tear from her eye. She could be a mother. She could do this; Enjolras wanted this. The thought of him holding her – _their – _child, seeing the smile on his face, made her shiver. She wanted him to be pleased with her; she wanted to be pleased by him.

So, she found herself nodding and moving closer into his arms, her heart beating wildly. As his kisses increased and her resolve crumbled, Éponine whispered, "Let's have a child."

Enjolras chuckled and pulled back from her creamy skin. He looked and saw the pure trepidation in her eyes. They weren't ready, and he knew it. He could wait. He would savor her for now; all of her. Pressing a wet kiss to her jaw, he whispered, "Let's just enjoy each other for awhile."

Éponine couldn't have been more relieved and nervous in one moment.

* * *

_Four things: _

_One) I don't do smut. So.. if you were wanting that, whoops, sorry. This is only rated T and I have no idea how to write that kinda stuff. I wish I did, because I would like to write something __more__ for you guys, but at the moment, that's not gonna happen. Maybe in the future – and with help from Brit – I can figure out how to do a one-shot or something for you all. I'm sorry if you're disappointed. :(_

_Two) If suddenly this story seems to be going ready fast, I feel you. I spent two entire days trying to figure out how I wanted to prolong some of this, but it didn't work out the way I wanted it to. And this chapter is frankly annoying and shit. But there is good reason for the quickened pace, though; trust me! There is still so much more to this story! _

_Three) THANK YOU; THANK YOU; THANK YOU! I never would have dreamed that I would have had over 200 reviews in only 16 chapters. It means so much! I love you all very dearly. Thank you to Judy-BB, too, for always, __**always**__, being amazing. And to Brit-Kit who is, undoubtedly, my partner-in-crime! _

_Four) Some people in the last chapter were worried that this story was almost over. Holy crap, no. We haven't even gotten to the revolution yet, dearies. There is so much more! I hope that puts your minds at ease. _


	17. It All Begins

_**Pairings: **__E/__É__; more to come, but probably not because I'm too lazy._

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

* * *

_It All Begins_

It wasn't until noon that the pair awoke, almost in unison. Enjolras had the pleasure of waking up moments before his wife, taking in the sight of her mussed hair and sleep-filled eyes. He smiled and pulled her closer against his front. He did not regret it at all. Their naked flesh pressed together was comforting and he buried his face within the crook of her neck. Éponine's eyes flitted open and she yawned, stretching slightly.

"Good morning," Enjolras whispered.

Éponine turned in his arms, pressed her lips to the top of his chest. "G'morning."

"I trust you slept well?" She nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck, yawning once more. "I never knew those trysts Courfeyrac spoke of with Grantaire could be so rewarding. You're quite skilled."

Éponine laughed, scratchy and low. "I'm not sure if I should be offended or not."

Enjolras colored and wrinkled his nose, shaking his head. "No! No! I didn't mean it that way, Éponine. I'm terribly sorry-"

She pressed a kiss to his lips. "I knew what you meant. You're not half bad yourself." In fact, he didn't know the full extent as to just _how good_ he was. The memories of the night before still made Éponine tremble with desire.

Enjolras rolled over onto his back and pulled Éponine along with him; she settled her head on the middle of his chest, her fingers drawing patterns on his white forearm.

"Do you regret it?" she whispered, giving his skin another kiss.

Enjolras shook his head, running his fingers through the hair on her scalp. "No."

Éponine smiled. "Good."

"In fact, I could have another go," he whispered, his voice more husky than it had been seconds before.

Éponine lifted her head, bit her lip, and smiled. "As could I."

* * *

Later on that afternoon, Enjolras and Éponine finally made their way downstairs after using the bath to the best of their ability, testing what they could and couldn't do inside of the cramped space. It was clear that Éponine would have a nasty bruise on her hip and someone would have to deal with the entirely too-wet floor sooner or later.

In the sitting room, two visitors awaited them: Joly and a red headed young woman Éponine had never seen before. Enjolras greeted them both like old friends, yet Éponine stood back, slightly intimidated by the red haired woman.

Finally, Enjolras introduced the woman as Joly's mistress, Musichetta. She embraced Éponine suddenly, squeezing her tightly; Éponine smiled, slightly startled, but she returned the hug with equal force. The men retired to Enjolras' study, while Musichetta and Éponine stayed behind; the mistress had come along because she was both dying to meet Enjolras' wife, and in need of female company.

Once the door had closed to Enjolras' study, the woman turned and faced Éponine with a bright smile. "So, how is he in bed?"

Éponine laughed heartily and sat down beside Musichetta on the couch. "Where have you been all my life?" she asked.

The other woman shrugged. "Probably in someone-else's bed!"

Éponine and Musichetta felt their shoulders shake with laughter as they talked about their own lives, how they had come to be in line with _Les Amis_, what-in-the-hell attracted Musichetta to Joly, and the like. When it was time for them to take their leave, hours later, both women were sad to leave the other, but they promised to frequent the café more often, just to see one another.

Enjolras beamed at Éponine as she watched them ride away, waving. She looked back up at him and raised an eyebrow.

"You asked her to come along, didn't you?"

He shrugged.

"So I could meet someone I'm like?"

He shrugged again.

She shook her head, smiling. "I love you."

"I know."

* * *

The air in the lake house changed suddenly in the following weeks. While Enjolras and Éponine strictly kept their hands to themselves around _Les Amis_, and even Vipond, when alone, nothing could stop them from showing their undying love. It was obvious to everyone around them how much they had changed. Enjolras had gone from being the stoic, often rude, leader to the softer, gentler, yet still commanding man he was now. Éponine felt loved, instilled into a family. She, most of all, felt safe.

It was odd. A pair, so determined to best the other, was really the best they could be when together. Éponine felt her anger and hatred for Enjolras simmered down into a deep rooted respect for his heart, mind, and work. Enjolras adored how skillfully Éponine could always pick out the flaws in his speeches or play Devil's advocate perfectly. She always made everything _better. _

Five weeks later, Éponine pushed open the door to her husband's library, a tiny cake in hand. Enjolras looked up from his ledger and smiled, closing the book, and crossing the room to settle his hands on his wife's shoulders.

"What do you have there?" he asked, eyeing the cake Éponine held in her hands.

"A cake," she said, smiling brightly. "Take it! I made it myself." She gently shoved the plate into his hands.

Enjolras took it with a laugh and set it on the desk behind him, choosing to focus his attention on Éponine instead. He perched himself on the corner of his desk and pulled her so she stood directly in between his legs. Enjolras gave Éponine a tiny frown.

"What have I done to deserve a cake? Have I offended you?" Éponine only smiled in return. Enjolras grunted and crossed his arms. "Oh! You've finally done it; you've poisoned me!" He clutched a hand to his heart and mocked despair. "My dear, Éponine! Who is it? Who have you fallen for that's not me? The poor, _poor_, downtrodden revolutionary."

"Courfeyrac," she replied without missing a beat, a twinkle in her eye.

Enjolras groaned and pulled Éponine in for a deep hug. She squealed and laughed as he stood up and spun her around the room. Finally, he set her down and her laughter ended, much to his disappointment.

"Courfeyrac? Charles Courfeyrac?" He raised an eyebrow. "What would you want with that clod? As I've been told," he cleared his throat and straightened his waistcoat. "I'm quite a fabulous lover."

Éponine sighed wistfully and put her hands on his forearms, paying close attention to the white fabric. "Oh, Rogier, I wish you would be this relaxed in front of your friends." Enjolras tensed. "Don't be cross with me, I'm only telling you how I feel."

He pulled away and walked back to the desk, trailing his fingers along the woodwork. He sighed and straightened his back, looking forward at the bookcases. "I have much work to do, Éponine. Please, I'll be down for-"

Éponine folded her arms and stomped her foot. "Don't you shut down like this again, Enjolras! Please. Don't turn into that pompous white revolutionary ass you are around your friends!"

He faced her with an angry glare. "I'm not in the mood to have this discussion."

She put her hands on her hips. "When will you be? It certainly wasn't a few nights ago-"

"A few nights ago, I was under-the-weather!" he defended

"Tosh! You were fine! Fine enough to take-"

"Éponine!" he bellowed, closing his eyes, his face turning red.

Éponine opened and closed her mouth, angry tears stinging her eyes. It was the same argument over and over. Éponine was so desperate for Enjolras to show _Les Amis _what he was truly like; she didn't want them believing he actually was some sort of statue. He had feelings, too. He could laugh, and joke, and cry, and love, just like the rest of them. But for some damn reason, he bottled it all up whenever they dropped by; he returned to the same straightened back, stone face, dry voice that Éponine had first encountered. It broke her heart, to be honest.

"What?" she whispered.

He looked away and pointed toward the door. "Go."

Éponine felt the corners of her mouth fall toward the floor. He'd never sent her away before. She brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. Blinking rapidly, her feet itched to take her toward the door, but she held firm for a few more seconds and muttered, "Enjoy the cake," before taking her leave, closing the door softly behind her.

Enjolras swallowed, clenched his jaw, and fell back against the desk. He reached behind him and pulled the cake back out onto his lap, looking at it for a moment. Immediately, he looked up at the door, cursing himself. He looked back down and read the words written neatly in frosting again.

_Congratulation... Father._

* * *

Vipond shook his head, pushing the left over scrapings of cake before Éponine. She held her cheeks in her palms, sulking. Vipond leaned on the counter, absentmindedly wiping down the same spot over and over again.

"He didn't take the news too well, then?"

Éponine choked back a sob. "He didn't even look at it."

"Oh.."

"He's an ass," she whispered, wiping her damp cheek. She'd only found out herself three days previously. Her monthly flow had never come, so she ventured to the doctor, walking into town with Enjolras while he went to one of his meetings. The midwife was almost certain Éponine was with-child. Éponine wasn't even excited anymore; it all seemed for naught.

"I must agree," Enjolras said, stepping into the kitchen.

Vipond stood up straight, taking in a deep breath. Enjolras blinked and tried not to notice how Éponine didn't even startle when he walked in. Vipond quickly excused himself.

"I said," he repeated. "That I must agree with your accusations that I'm an ass."

Éponine chuckled coldly, shaking her head. "Please, do not start."

Enjolras took the seat beside her at the counter. "Don't start what?"

Éponine faced him with a vicious glare. "That whole act you put on. You're going to down-play our argument because I'm pregnant. You won't accept that I'm right on the matter!"

Enjolras had to admit that hearing her say that she was, indeed, pregnant took the breath away from him. He closed his eyes momentarily then sat up a little straighter. He pushed aside their argument for the moment, much to her dissatisfaction. "So, you're telling the truth? You're – You're pregnant?"

Éponine ducked her head, licked her bottom lip, and nodded. "I'm fairly positive."

He looked away, taking a deep breath. "How far along?"

"Not even a month."

He remained silent, letting it all wash over him.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" she asked, panicked. What if he suddenly backed out? What if he left her? Or worse, threw her out into the streets?

"Yes. Yes, of course," he breathed, still not facing her.

"Then what is it?" She hesitantly placed a hand on his shoulder, swallowing in fear.

Enjolras ducked his head, running a hand through his hair. "I'm nervous," he whispered. Éponine felt her breathing quicken; she removed her hand from his shoulder. He turned to look at her; Éponine felt her body move back slightly. He looked so frightened, so scared, it made her scared as well. "What if I turn out to be like my father?"

Éponine sucked in a low breath and shook her head, cradling his face in her hands. "You will never be like Bertrand. I will make sure of that!"

"What if this all goes wrong? What if something happens and you-"

Éponine put a finger on his lips, forgetting their tension, forgetting their fight. She smiled encouragingly. "Nothing is going to go wrong, Enjolras. For centuries, women have been doing this; why should I be any different?"

Enjolras suddenly cracked the air with a solid laugh. He leaned in and pressed a messy kiss to her lips, embracing her fully. "I'm going to be a father," he whispered into her shoulder. Éponine laughed, tears blurring her vision. When had this all happened so fast? When had they fallen in love? Created this – this child? Good Lord, she didn't care. She had a husband who loved her, a family, a home!

All was right with the world.

She had finally gotten what she deserved.

Éponine Enjolras was in love, pregnant, and healthy. She was..

She was that ray of sunshine Vipond had likened her to one evening, just waiting to break through the dusty cracks of a ceiling. She'd broken through, and it felt wonderful.


	18. The Art of Babies and Swimming

_**Pairings: **__E/É; I'd like to say more to come, but.._

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Get lost. **_

* * *

_The Art of Babies and Swimming_

It was time to tell the lads. Well, Éponine thought so. After all, her stomach _was _beginning to show ever so slightly. The past weeks had been the same: tough, yet blissful. Enjolras and Éponine had finally sat down and discussed their argument. Luckily, they both understood where the other was coming from. It was still hard for Éponine to open up to Enjolras, as much as she cared about him. Enjolras was still having a hard time processing how easily everything had fallen into place. Sometimes, he would wake up, Éponine spooned against him, breathing deeply, and he would have to remind himself that yes, this is what he wanted. He wanted her. He wanted their child.

But he wanted the rebellion, too.

When Éponine approached Enjolras with her idea of telling _Les Amis _of both their love and their baby, at first he was adamant. No. There was no way they were telling them. Not until it couldn't possibly be kept a secret anymore. Enjolras had sent a letter to Simon and Clemence, dictating all that had happened recently in the Enjolras home: their true feelings, Éponine's father trying to take her away, the baby... He received two letters back; one from Clemence gushing about how excited she was and how she would be the best aunty on the face on the world. And a second from Simon addressed specifically to Enjolras. It offered his congratulations and then went into more questions and wondrous thoughts about the rebellion. It both unnerved and elated Enjolras that his bother-in-law could possibly join forces with _Les Amis. _

Finally, Éponine broke Enjolras with a surplus of cuddles and kisses and general Éponine-like actions that nearly made his knees weak. He gave up with a defeated sigh and Éponine proudly announced, "I'll go get my coat."

The late weeks in September turned rather chilly very quickly. In past years, the month had still been partially warm throughout. Enjolras didn't mind the weather, though Éponine did. He found the chill to be a harsh wake-up call when one walked outside and they were still half-alseep. Much to Éponine's annoyance, he enjoyed that. Though he would never tell her, sometimes he woke up late at night, slipped out of bed, and opened the window of their bedroom just a crack. If the weather was good to him, a sharp breeze would fly through, hitting Éponine square in the face. It was a nice excuse to get to her squeeze closer, closer than she had already been.

Enjolras sullenly followed his wife outside, where he assisted her into the waiting carriage. From there, they took the short ride into the square where the café was located. If it were up to him, Enjolras would walk into town. But, with Éponine's growing condition, he thought it safest for her to ride and he didn't want to leave her alone. So, he rode, too.

She settled down across from him, rubbing her eyebrow. "Why don't you want to tell them?" she asked with a smile.

Enjolras crossed his arms and his ankles, leaning back. "They could be angry."

Éponine shrugged. "If they are, they can't be god-fathers." She snickered and brushed a leaf off her shoe. Enjolras didn't answer her and Éponine sighed, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, Enjolras, pull the stick out of your ass. Be happy! They won't be angry, I promise you. If anything, they'll be shocked, but not angry."

Enjolras felt the slight twinge of a smile on his lips, keeping his eyes on his crossed ankles. Gracious, he loved her.

* * *

Grantaire was the first to respond after Enjolras made his announcement, Éponine standing behind him, now slightly nervous. The drunk stood up and clapped slowly. At first, Enjolras was angry. Was he mocking him? Enjolras put a protective hand on Éponine's arm as the man started walking forward. All other men in the room were stunned into silence. It seemed Éponine was right. They weren't angry. They were shocked that Enjolras had both fallen for a woman and bedded her within forty-eight hours. And shocked that he had failed to tell them of these actions weeks before, when they first happened.

Grantaire finally reached Enjolras and clapped the man's shoulder. "Well, I never thought I'd live to see the day," he said, smiling loosely. "Congratulations, _mon ami._"

Enjolras held his frown in place, cocking his head to the side. "I'm not sure if you're being serious or not."

Grantaire feigned pain. "Oh, but I am!" He turned to face the rest of the amis, pulling the most demanding face he could muster. "We all are, correct?"

As if they had been swatted by an invisible hand, _tous Les Amis _jumped to attention, shaking Enjolras' hand, offering their own congratulations, and pulling Éponine in for small hugs. Éponine watched how Enjolras still, even now, kept his face void of most emotion. He took their congratulations and handshakes like any man would, with a small smile of gratitude, but for the most part, he was the same. Éponine shook her head, wishing she really understood her husband. While she understood what he was doing, what he was preparing for, she didn't understand his reasonings. At the moment, she was too busy trying to persuade Jehan that no, they were not going to name the child Cleopatra and no, he could not convince her other wise, but yes, if the child was a boy, he could teach him the ways of poetry regardless.

Combeferre slid up next to Enjolras, resting a hand on the other man's shoulder. "I told you good things would come of this union."

Enjolras sucked in a deep breath, keeping his arms held close against his chest. He kept his eyes trained on Éponine who seemed busy enough trying to listen to all the men talking to her at once. A bright smile held her lips into place; she looked radiant.

"Yes, I should have never doubted you," Enjolras admitted.

"Then why, pray tell, do you look so solemn? Are you not pleased with the news? Do you not wish to be a father?" Combeferre asked, innocent enough. If he were given the chance to be a father, he would jump at it. But that was not to be, which didn't bother him too badly.

Enjolras turned to face his friend with an earnest look in his eyes. "No! I am very pleased. In fact, it was my idea to have a child so suddenly. I am only slightly nervous. It's nothing to worry _yourself _about, though, _mon ami._" Enjolras raised his hand and squeezed Combeferre's, giving him an encouraging smile. "Really."

Combeferre pulled away, nodding. "If you say so." He suddenly laughed again and held out his hand, shaking Enjolras' roughly. "You're going to be a father! Dammit, congratulations!"

Enjolras' face broke into a tight-lipped grin. "Thank you. Pray I live through this. If Éponine is anything like my own mother when she was pregnant with Xavier, then this will be the death of me."

Combeferre only laughed. But Enjolras was being serious.

* * *

Enjolras and Éponine stayed late into the night. Talk moved from Éponine's pregnancy, to baby names – both serious and ludicrous – and, as always, back to the rebellion. Éponine didn't mind; she had never seen the men "in their comfort-zone" before. She was especially excited to see Enjolras get all riled up. When it finally happened, when he turned into the regal, commanding, leader everyone had raved about, Éponine had to admit that she was feeling a little flustered. Suddenly, the room felt extremely hot and a cold bath sounded lovely. Éponine scratched at her warming neck and wiggled in her seat.

Beside her, Grantaire laughed quietly, his arm thrown over the back of her chair. "Every time Courfeyrac brought in one of his mistresses, they would get hot and bothered like you, too. I suppose it's okay if you do, though, being his wife and all."

Éponine gave Grantaire a sarcastic smirk and crossed her arms over her chest. Enjolras was practically oblivious to it all standing on that dais, his arms flinging around, his face red with passion and lack of air, his neck, collarbone, and forehead shining with sweat. She swallowed.

"Is it sweltering in here to you?" she asked, leaning closer toward Grantaire.

His eyebrows nearly reached his hairline. "No," was his terse reply.

Éponine humphed and leaned back in her chair, trying nearly too hard not to pay attention to her husband ranting and raving about taxes, and underfed children, and the corrupt government. He finally finished, much to her relief and everyone else's disappointment. He hopped down from the make-shift stage in one step and sauntered over to where she sat. If she had been flustered before, it was worse now. Éponine groaned and stood before he could say anything.

"Can we go? I'm feeling awfully tired," she said quickly, shoving her heel onto Grantaire's shin when he began to snicker.

Enjolras looked between the both of them sceptically before nodding. "Of course. It's getting late anyway." He held Éponine's elbow in one hand, raising the other to give a short farewell. "Good night!" There was a chorus of more congratulations and then the two were off back into the night.

* * *

Upon arriving home, Éponine exited the carriage and headed straight for the boathouse. Enjolras followed her, silent, wanting to know what she was up to. She had harbored a devilish look in her eyes the whole way home, hardly speaking a word. As she entered the boathouse, she began to undo the lower buttons of her dress. Enjolras took a step back, but quickly stepped inside, closing the door.

"What do you think you're doing?" he hissed.

Éponine waved a hand and scoffed. "I can't reach the top buttons. Undo them, will you?" she pleaded over her shoulder.

"Under any other circumstances, I would happily oblige you. But anyone could walk in at any moment, Éponine," he replied, not budging.

"Enjolras," she said, turning around. "Has anyone ever come into the boathouse besides you or I?"

He frowned. "No."

"Case and point." Éponine grinned. "Now, please, the buttons."

Enjolras sighed and did as she bade, trying to calm his breathing when she slipped out of the dress, pushed it across the floor, and was left clad in only her thin shift, which left little to the imagination.

"To answer your previous question, dearest, I am going to take a swim." She smiled triumphantly, reaching for the doorknob on the opposite door that led to the pier.

Enjolras shot forward and grabbed her arm, pulling her back. "Oh no you're not! Need I remind you that both times you've gotten in that lake you've nearly drowned!"

Éponine shook her arm free, glaring up through her brown eyes. "Need I remind _you _that one of those times getting in the lake was not my choice!"

Enjolras took a step back, raising his hands in defeat. "Fine, but if you're getting in, then I'm getting in with you. I won't have you drowning."

"Even better," Éponine said with a smile.

Enjolras rolled his eyes, set his jaw, and waved toward the door. "Wait for me on the other side. And I mean _wait!_"

Éponine pouted and slipped out the door, darting for the opposite end of the pond. Enjolras had an awful embarrassment of his nakedness. While he was fine in the dark, or about to pursue other activities, if he was simply taking a bath or changing his clothes, he would politely order Éponine from the room. Éponine found it endearing, but Enjolras was embarrassed _by _his embarrassment. Adorned in only his thin undershorts, Enjolras ran after Éponine, shivering in the cold. When he reached her, she was already hip deep. He remained shivering on the side, rubbing his arms in an attempt to warm himself.

"Éponine, please, get out of there! It's freezing!"

She turned around and laughed, nodding. "I know. Isn't it wonderful?"

"No. Not really."

"Come on, Enj. Come teach me how to swim!" Éponine waved her hand in a beckoning motion. "I promise the water will warm up once you're in it."

"I highly doubt that," Enjolras muttered, picking his way through the mud and bone-chilling water. Once he reached her, there was no going back, and it took every ounce of self-control for him _not _to cry out in pure pain.

Éponine's smile grew as Enjolras' grimace did. "This is horrible," he said quietly.

"Teach me to swim," she asked, walking a little farther out into the water.

Enjolras sighed. "Hold onto my arms." She did so. "I am going to take you out to where your feet can't touch." Éponine nodded, surprisingly unafraid. "You just have to trust me."

"I do."

Enjolras walked out backward into the middle of the lake; Éponine allowed herself to be led to where only the tips of her big-toes could barely scrape the tip of the mud lining the bottom of the pond. She smiled, biting her bottom lip in concentration. Enjolras shifted, letting his arms fall. Éponine nearly shrieked, latching onto his shoulders for support, her eyes wild. He grinned ruefully.

"Just trust me," he repeated, whispering.

Éponine nodded, slowly letting go of his shoulders. For a few seconds, she stayed afloat, but fear soon dragged her down and Enjolras caught her, pulling her back up.

"Don't hold onto me," he said.

"What!"

"I've got you." He held firmly to her waist, willing himself not think about the gentle curve of her skin, the incredibly tiny stomach that was forming.

Éponine removed her hands from his shoulders, staring down at the dark water with parted lips. Her arms waded back and forth and Enjolras could ever so slightly feel her feet brush against his legs as she kicked the water.

"There you go," he said, smiling. "You've almost go it. Just keep at that." He smiled proudly at Éponine, slowly letting go of her finger by finger. When she was no longer being held, she didn't notice, keeping herself above water in the same spot. "You're doing it!" he suddenly cried.

Éponine looked up, smiling widely. Upon the realization that Enjolras was no longer holding her, she faltered for a few seconds, nearly slipping down into the darkness. But she held herself up, determined to make him proud.

"I'm doing it," she whispered then repeating it at a whoop. "I'm doing it, Enjolras!"

"You are; you are! Now, move around a little. Push forward onto your stomach and – There you go!"

Éponine kept at it until she was positive she could make her way across the pond she if had to. Sighing triumphantly, Éponine brought herself to a stop before her beaming husband.

"Thank you, Enjolras."

He shook his head, pulling her up against him. "It was nothing."

She wrapped her slim legs around his waist and hugged him tightly. Enjolras frowned slightly when he heard her choked back tears, but sighed, blaming it on hormones, and began rubbing her back steadily. After a moment, he ventured to ask what was wrong.

She buried her head further into his neck, clinging to him tighter. "I just.. Don't ever let me go."

"But, Éponine, you just learned how to – Oh." He held her tighter, pressing a kiss to whatever skin he could find. "No. Never. No matter what, I will never let you go."

* * *

_Here. Have some fluff. _

_(you're gonna need it.)  
_


	19. Accidents Happen

_**A/N: **__Author's note at the end this time: explanations and such. _

_**Pairings: **__E/__É; yeah yeah_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

* * *

_Accidents Happen_

Enjolras felt the bed shift as Éponine flung her quickly increasing weight off of the mattress. He groaned and slid his head underneath the pillow as he heard the door wrenched open and her feet patter down the hall. Thinking she only had to relieve herself, Enjolras waited, but she didn't return after a few moments, so he pulled himself up and followed the light pouring out of the small, empty closet that now served as Éponine's own personal retching-room; she was never able to make it to the outdoor bathroom before, upsetting both herself and _Madame _Pate, the new house keeper, when she made a mess upon the floor. Upon reaching the door, he steeled himself and slipped inside, finding her hunkered over the chamberpot.

He heard himself sigh as he slid to the ground, holding her thick hair back, lest it get in the way of her vomit. She became sick one more time, and she was then through, falling back against Enjolras' bare chest. She sniffed and rubbed her nose, croaking, "I'm sorry."

Enjolras rearranged himself so he was leaning against the wall, his limp and shaking wife practically lying in his lap. "You have nothing to apologize for."

She buried her head in his leg. "It happens to be embarrassing, Enjolras," she snapped. His hands stilled in her hair. "I'm sorry," she repeated.

Enjolras had finally realized that he would _never _understand women, pregnant or not. Éponine had reached her fourth month. Nearly every morning, she woke up, ran to her room, retched, and somehow found a way to shovel down food enough for two full-grown men. She would cry at the slightest things (although that phase was just starting). Like when she felt the first flutter in her stomach, she cried so hard Enjolras gave up and left she was so far gone. She had begun to gain a little weight, too, not just in her stomach. At first, all the weight was in her womb, much to her gladness. But now, her face had filled out and her arms were no longer scrawny. Really, she looked healthy, not large, _healthy. _And Enjolras loved it. Pregnancy suited her. She glowed.

"Come on. You're going back to bed," he whispered, his voice slightly straining as he pulled her up into his arms, trudging back down the hall.

"It's nearly daybreak," she stated. "I have too much to do; Clemence and Simon are com-"

"Éponine, be quiet." Enjolras slipped her into bed, tucked the covers up to her chin, and watched with a satisfied smirk at how quickly she fell back asleep. She was right about there being too much to do. Clemence and Simon were scheduled to arrive later on that afternoon, for it was nearly Christmas time.

He took one last fleeting glance at his wife and then left the room, ready to prepare himself for the grueling day ahead.

* * *

Éponine finally meandered downstairs sometime around noon, exceptionally hungry. She found Vipond where she always found him: the kitchen. He smiled brightly when she walked in.

"Ah, Éponine! There you are! Hungry?"

Éponine normally would have blushed, but she was too famished to care if someone thought she ate too much. The child inside her was simply begging for it, and she was happy to oblige. "Yes, please!"

Vipond nodded once, happy his work was well appreciated. "An omelet, I presume?"

"Of course," she replied, having had an omelet every day for the past week or so. "With extra cheese! Vipond, do you know where Enjolras is?" she asked, picking up an apple.

"No, _madame. _Though, I thought I heard _monsieur _Combeferre come in a little earlier."

"Oh. Well, do you know when Clemence will be here?"

"Sometime soon, I'm sure. But you eat first," he said, proudly setting the plate of a smaller omelet before her.

Éponine licked her lips, bent her nose, and nearly retched again. The smell was too much and suddenly, she wasn't that hungry anymore. "On second thought," she whispered, blanching while pushing the plate away. "I'll just have an apple."

Vipond shook his head. "Alright then, Éponine, but you must promise to eat something later."

Éponine shrugged as she slipped off the chair. "Maybe. Thank you anyway, Vipond."

"You're welcome, dear." He watched contently as she left the room. "Oh, and Éponine!" She stuck her head back around the door-jam. "Congratulations on your child once more."

Éponine felt a grin spread across her face. "Thank you, Vipond."

She found her husband a short while later in his office. Stepping quickly into the room, Enjolras looked up from the house's books and smiled slightly. "Good morning then,Éponine," he said dryly, raising an eyebrow.

Éponine rolled her eyes and perched herself on one of the leather chairs before his desk. "I wanted to thank you for being so kind to me this morning. I don't really remember much, but I'm sure it must have been awful."

"It was nothing," he said, looking back at the books.

"I hardly agree, but whatever you say." There was a long pause. "Will they be here soon, do you think?"

Enjolras sighed loudly, yet smiled. "Éponine, I have no idea when my sister will be here. I do know that you constantly asking _everyone _whether or not they will be here soon will not hurry them along."

"I know," she whispered, smiling at her lap. "I'm just excited."

"I'm glad. Now, if you don't mind, I have some account things to look over, so.."

Éponine stood up immediately. "Oh! Don't let me keep you; I'm sorry." She walked to the door and then turned around. "Enjolras?"

"Hmm?" He didn't look up.

She looked at him: so perfectly engrossed in his work, so beautiful. She wanted to memorize his features forever. "You're so very handsome."

Enjolras looked up and gave her his heartbreaking lopsided grin. "You're not too shabby yourself."

* * *

"They're here, Rogier!" Éponine bounded down the stairs as fast as her feet could take her a few hours later into the afternoon, having seen the dust of – what she hoped was – their carriage as it sped down the dirt drive. Much to her dismay, the sky was quite overcast, threatening to spill rain, and possibly hail, at any moment. Éponine had wished to go on a walk with Clemence, giving them time alone, while Enjolras and Simon did whatever they pleased. Both Éponine and Clemence shared a common love for the out of doors.

Enjolras rounded the corner, throwing on his jacket. "I know; I heard your – _É__ponine!_ Do not run like that," he commanded, rushing forward to stop her from running to the door as she reached the bottom of the stairs. "The baby," he reminded her, ever cautious and nearly too protective.

Éponine swatted his hand away, but secretly, her heart was a flutter. She pressed a long kiss to his lips, which he eagerly responded to, wrapping his arms around her slim waist, drawing her a close as possible. Éponine pulled back an inch, laughing softly as Enjolras moved his lips to the side of her neck.

"They're here, Enjolras," she whispered, rather hoarse.

"I know," he mumbled into her skin, which smelled of sweet lemon.

Gently, Éponine pushed at his shoulders. "Let me go before they walk in!"

"Before who walks in, _daughter_?"

At the sound of her father's voice, Éponine froze, clinging to Enjolras' arms. He'd best not let go now or she'd skin him! Normally, if it was any other given day, Éponine would face her father head on, but today, she felt weak. Pregnancy was tough and for once, Éponine felt like it was okay for Enjolras to shield her. She only hoped that he would...

Enjolras straightened, his throat suddenly dry, all thoughts of picking Éponine up, carrying her upstairs, and having his wicked way with her had fleeted. Winking at her and planting a tender kiss on her forehead, Enjolras spun on his heel, meeting Thenarider's icy gaze with a fiery one.

"We meet again," Enjolras snapped, holding Éponine behind his back with his right hand.

Jordas Thenardier nodded, stepping into the house, only Montparnasse following close behind. "It seems we do."

"Papa," Éponine whispered. "What are you doing here?"

Jordas groaned like it was the most _painfully _obvious thing on the planet. "I came to bring you home, _of course!_ Really, Éponine, must you be so daft?" He scoffed and then cleared his throat. "Hand her over, pretty boy. And no one gets hurt."

Enjolras nearly laughed; how cliché. "No. She's my wife and I would like for her to stay." The words sounded feeble and small, but Enjolras meant them, which felt like they counted for something.

"You must be joking," Jordas said, turning away with slumped shoulders before turning back, fired up. "You aren't allowed to want Éponine to stay, can't you see that? You're of class; you've got shitbags of money and I'm sure that Éponine leaving you, gives us some. Am I right? Or am I right?"

In a normal situation, yes, Éponine would be entitled to _some _money; hardly any, but some. But Bertrand had wired their marriage up so tight, she wouldn't be allowed to leave if she wished; only death could separate them now. Enjolras was suddenly thankful for his father's astute mind.

Cautiously, Enjolras nodded. He felt Éponine tense, feeling his lie. "Yes. You are correct."

"Wonderful!" Jordas smiled brightly before whipping out a small dagger, all traces of a smile away on his face. "Hand the bitch over."

Enjolras took in a deep breath and lost himself in a memory:

_At ten, Enjolras could hardly be considered attractive. Baby cute, maybe. But not attractive. He hadn't yet begun to make girls swoon and nearly need to excuse themselves from the room. He hadn't yet caused Elizabeth-Marie to cry for an hour because he nearly smiled at her. _

_That was all to come. _

_One thing was certain. Rogier Enjolras was smart; incredibly so. And being smart brought about his ability to blend. At his all-male boarding school for the elite of France, Enjolras had never found many friends. Sure, he got along well with a young boy named Austier Joly, but he found his incessant need to wash his hands distracting. Other than Joly, Enjolras was mostly alone. So, he learned to blend in with the polished walls and under-used bookcases; he heard things, saw things, he wasn't supposed to. _

_Like when he caught two students looking at a brothel advertisement and conversing which pleasures they would pay for. Or when he witnessed Professor Debes and Professor Stavola doing a little more than messing around in-between the bookshelves. _

_Enjolras was good at being a... shadow. But he wouldn't be one forever, he promised himself. Not forever. _

_One afternoon, when he came home for the weekend, Enjolras heard the familiar sound of Clemence playing the piano, his father yelling, and his mother trying to hold in her cries. Instead of entering the house, he waited outside of his father's office window for the fighting to calm down. It only escalated. _

_Bertrand nearly dragged Lindy into his office, slamming the door shut, causing the windowpanes to rattle above Enjolras' little head. He strained his ears to listen and slowly peeked his head up. _

"_I'm going to ask you only once, Lindy: did you have an affair?" His voice was low and positively terrifying. Enjolras could hear his mother whimper. "Answer me!" _

"_Yes. Yes, I'm sorry!" Her cries rang free and smacked the windows as Bertrand shoved his wife against the wall. Enjolras winced, not wanting to look any longer, but not being able to tear his eyes away. _

"_With whom?!" _

_Lindy swallowed and looked at her toes. "The priest." _

_The room was silent. The irony of the event was too rich to be true. Only that week had the priest preached on the sin of adultery. _

"_God, Lindy," Bertrand growled, hurt and angry. He held her shoulders and pushed her down onto the floor. "Show me what you did to please the priest, wife. Go on!" _

_Lindy bit her lip, tears tracking down her cheeks. "Bertrand, stop!" She pushed at his legs, beginning to stand up, but he pushed her back down._

"_Do it, bitch!"_

Enjolras shook himself back, his heart clenching with emotion for his mother. It was still only three years after Xavier, too...

Taking a step forward, he frowned deeply. "Don't you _ever _call her that!"

"I urge you to stay quiet, boy," Jordas sneered, stepping forward as well.

Enjolras turned his head slightly, about ready to order Éponine to go find Vipond, but Jordas swiped the air inches from Enjolras' cheek with his dagger and the young man fell back, gasping. Éponine held onto her husband's elbow and drew him back when she saw him ready to fight.

"It's not worth it, Rogier," she whispered, attempting to step up the stairs, though she was doing it blindly, going up backwards.

Enjolras turned around and held Éponine's forearm roughly. Stepping forward and to the side a little, he said, "Go and find Vipond, Éponine. Make haste."

"But, Enjolras, where will-"

He shook his head, well aware of the fact that Jordas and 'Parnasse were closing in on him. He could feel their disgusting air. "Don't worry about me," he stammered. She needed to get out of there. "Go!"

Éponine look a long look at her husband. He looked so desperate for her to go, to find shelter. Éponine's father could do terrible things; he didn't want her to be present if he, too, had to become terrible. His eyes were rimmed with red from exhaustion and nerves. All she wanted to do was run her hands through his golden hair and reassure him that everything would be alright. But she couldn't do that, because she hardly knew whether she would make it through the day.

Nodding quickly, Éponine gave Enjolras a tiny peck before moving to turn down the hall, ready to run if-need-be. In fact, she should have darted away, but instead, figured she could slink down the hall.

Montparnasse knew her too well.

In a flurry of Éponine's green skirt, Enjolras' red jacket, and 'Parnasse's absurd top hat, the situation changed dramatically. In such that the young man once Éponine's lover had a hold of the young woman, one arm draped around her shoulders, pining her to his front; the other arm holding up a rather large musket, his eyes gleaming with excitement. Jordas took a hold of his son-in-law's collar and attempted to shove him up against the wall, but he was too slow in his old age, and ended up pinned against the wall himself, all the while Enjolras shouting things at both of the intruders.

Éponine had finally seen the terrible man and she was frightened. To think he was the same man that held her, and touched her, and loved her with all his being, now threatening to skin them alive and hang their hides on the wall. It made her blood run cold. Where was the man that had tucked her into bed that morning? The one who would steal her away into an alcove just to kiss her soundly before moving back to his work?

Enjolras craned his neck to see Montparnasse clutching his wife a little too tightly. "Let her go," he growled, tightening his grip on Jordas.

'Parnasse smirked. "Come over here and make me." He took a step back.

Enjolras closed his eyes, looking down. "Don't _test _me." Montparnasse only tilted his eyebrow. Enjolras had taken enough. He slammed his elbow into Jordas' nose, sending the older man flying onto the floor, clutching the now broken feature, blood pouring onto the marble floor. He then darted forward, heading for his wife, hoping to take away the pure trepidation in her eyes. She looked as if she were about to cry and it hit him how much pregnancy had changed her.

She would have been fighting back, too, had she not been with child. He was somewhat glad she was taking necessary precautions, but then again, he missed the fiery woman he'd fallen in love with; he still loved her, though, now more than ever.

Just as he took a step forward and reached out for her, his expression softening into a calming one, Montparnasse raised his musket a little higher, just so his rested above Éponine's head.

And he set it off, the bullet flying into the roof.

Éponine screamed, the report hitting her ear slightly. The backlash from the discharge flying back into her face. She felt 'Parnasse let go of her and she fell to the ground, her eyes closed tightly in fear.

She faintly heard Enjolras fall to his knees beside her, his hands cup her face. "He's down, Éponine. You can open your eyes now," he whispered, kissing her forehead for extra measure.

Éponine took a shaky breath, clutching her husband's hand for dear-life. She pried her eyes open.

And could see nothing.

* * *

_**A/N: **__Come on! Who was expecting that?! I got this idea __**weeks **__back and I'm so excited it finally happened. Tell me what you're thinking! Also, I sincerely apologize for the language and some of the themes in this chapter (ie: Bertrand and Lindy). It made me really uncomfortable and a little sad to write, but I felt the need to show just how bad their relationship was. I'm deeply sorry if I offended anyone! Please let me know what you're feeling!_

_Secondly, I am sad to say that __**all **__next week I will be out of town. I'm – again – going to a workcamp in New York and there __**will not **__be any way for me to update. I will be leaving Sunday morning, and I will get back Saturday, and I promise that I'll update on Sunday. That also means that I won't be able to write ahead; poop, I know. I am also sorry to be leaving it on this note, but it seemed to be the only way possible. _

_I __**might, might **__update tomorrow night; don't hold your breath, though. _

_If I update tomorrow, cool. Talk to you then._

_If not, I'm really sorry about the wait! I hope you all have a fabulous week. :D_

_Love, Jess_


	20. The Taste of Dark

_**A/N: **__The butt-hole is back. Overall, I think that was taken pretty well considering. I missed you all so much. Thank you for over 150 follows; that's amazing!_

_**Pairings: **__E/__É; possibly R/OC_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing. But my ways of causing people pain. **_

* * *

_The Taste of Dark_

The first thing Éponine did was blink. For a moment, it felt like something was only clouding her vision. But it was pitch black; pure, utter darkness. She rubbed at her eye and could hear Enjolras move beside her and take both of her shoulders into his hands.

"Éponine?" he whispered; she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. He was leaning in close. "Éponine, what is it?"

_Dear God, I've gone blind, _she thought, the terrible realization pushing her over with its massive weight.

"I can't see," she breathed, turning her head toward the sound of Enjolras' breath. "I can't.. I can't see."

"What do you mean?" He sounded near a panic, but held his voice firm as best as he could. It was true that her eyes did look a little different. They wavered slightly and didn't focus on his eyes like they usually did.

"I can't see," she repeated, scooting forward, holding onto his knees for support as her eyes flitted toward the front door. "It's dark.."

When the gun went off, the report and the slight fire had spread onto Éponine's cheek, leaving a noticeable burn. Enjolras stood up quickly and pulled her to his feet.

"We're going to the kitchen, okay? Just hold onto my hand." Their hands melded together and Enjolras led Éponine to the kitchen, which had been deserted. Pushing her back onto a stool, he filled his cupped hands with water and then tilted her head back.

Éponine whimpered, steadying herself with the counter. "What are you doing?"

"Trust me," he whispered.

"Just tell me!"

"You have to trust me, Éponine!"

She settled and latched her hands onto his hips. "Okay.." Enjolras took a deep breath and lightly sprinkled some of the water into her eyes. Éponine flinched and her eyes closed immediately. "Rogier, don-"

"Éponine," he warned. "Hush."

He did the same to her other eye and waited for them to open back up. When they did, nothing had changed. Remarkably calm, Enjolras lifted three fingers.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

Éponine nearly punched him, but she wouldn't know where to let her fist fall. "That's not funny!"

"I am being dead serious. How many?"

She paused for a very long time. "Six?"

Enjolras sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Three."

Éponine stifled a sob by lifting her hand to her mouth. Enjolras placed his hands on her shoulders again, feeling his own loss and fear settle in his stomach. He couldn't show it; he had to be strong. Think of what Éponine was feeling!

"We'll go to the doctor. Get your burn checked out," he began, running a hand over her quickly dampening cheek as the tears began to flow. "It will be okay."

Éponine nodded like she agreed and placed a hand on the swell of her stomach. Enjolras felt his heart beat even faster. The child.. She would never..

_No. Don't think about that now._

He placed his arm around her waist, helping her to her feet; Enjolras had never seen Éponine cry this way, nor this hard. It hurt him. He called for Vipond, who rushed in from hiding in the cupboard. Upon seeing Éponine scared face, crying eyes, and the way she was clinging to Enjolras' arms for dear life, he closed his mouth, shutting off the words he was about to say.

"What – What can I do?" he stammered, face ashen.

"Where is Combeferre?" Enjolras' best friend had been there at the home, waiting for Enjolras to come and discuss something relatively important about the rebellion. But Enjolras had forgotten about all that now.

"Last I saw, he went out to the gardens."

"Fetch him for us, please."

"Of course, _monsieur._" The elderly chef – more or less grandfather of the house – rushed out the backdoor, arms waving, caterwauling for Combeferre.

"Enjolras?" Éponine whispered, keeping her eyes closed, her face in his neck.

Enjolras wrapped his arms around Éponine, pulling her close. "Yes?"

"I wouldn't blame you if – I wouldn't blame you if you wanted me gone now.." Her voice was small and quiet. Enjolras' fingers unconsciously tightened around her shoulders, likely to leave small red marks later on.

He wanted to scream at her. After all this time, after they had known for so long how deep and wide their love was for the other, how could she doubt for one second that he would leave her? For better or for worse; they would get through this. He was sure of that. Even if she was permanently blind, Enjolras had their child to think of now – even more so.

"You're being ridiculous," he berated under his breath. "I will hear no more of that sort of talk."

The backdoor slammed open and Combeferre rushed inside, eyes ablaze. "The carriage is ready."

Enjolras nodded once and pushed Éponine away slightly. She wobbled on her feet . "Open your eyes, Éponine."

She complied, but argued, "I won't see any-"

Combeferre – not knowing of her situation – nearly gasped, but held himself together for Enjolras' sake. He watched as Enjolras tenderly took her face in his hands and stared into her unseeing eyes, just as though they still could see his face.

"We're going to the doctor now. I want you and the baby both to be checked. Try and stay calm."

Combeferre appeared at her side and took her elbow gently. He looked over her head and frowned slightly. "I'll take her out," he whispered, barely audible. "Take a moment to collect yourself." Enjolras nodded in appreciation. He sighed as Éponine sniffled a few times and then shuffled out with Combeferre, her knuckles turning white in an attempt to hold onto his arms.

When the backdoor closed, Enjolras knew a sob was forming in the back of his throat. He leaned onto the counter with his palms and breathed heavily. His shoulders were soon heavy with the sobs that echoed in the empty kitchen. Full of rage and pent up emotion, he reached for the nearest object: a clear bowl full of candies, Vipond's little "secret stash." Éponine had begun stealing from it as of late.

Clenching his jaw, Enjolras weighed the bowl in both of his hands, gritted his teeth, and then threw it across the room. The bowl shattered against the wall, little pieces of glass raining down the wood. He pounded his fist into the counter, only succeeding in ripping the skin off his knuckles.

_Why couldn't it have been him? _

_Why couldn't it have been Montparnasse? _

_Why her? _

_Why __É__ponine?_

She would never see their child, never know the beauty of their firstborn. If they had more children in the future, she would never see them, either. The thought made him want to vomit. He wanted to curl up into a ball and cry for the thing she had lost, cry for the pain she was feeling, cry for himself. The rage in his stomach, though, was churning and God knew the next time Enjolras got his hands on her father or Montparnasse, that would be the end of them.

He would enjoy killing them. Slowly...

It was only a matter of time, though. He had to wait, and wait he would.

* * *

With a swollen and bloody nose, Montparnasse staggered into the alleyway. His stomach churned with venom at his own self. He had always known that he could do vile things.

But blind a woman?

A pregnant woman?

That seemed a bit much. Even for his own standards.

Jordas stood in the end of the alley, speaking quietly with the rest of the gang. The little Italian piece who had ever so kindly given up times and locations for Thenardier was hunkering down in the corner, nursing her crumbled ego.

Jordas turned around at the sound of footsteps. "Well?"

"Stayed long enough to know that she's blind."

Jordas closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. If Montparnasse didn't know any better, he'd think that he was feeling some sort of regret for what he had done to his own flesh and blood. But that was not the case. He couldn't feel anymore relieved.

Now the damnable revolutionary would let her go, they'd find a way to rid themselves of the baby, and all would be well again. 'Parnasse would have her back, as promised, too.

"Good then."

Montparnasse backed up enough to let Jordas and the others pass and round the corner. He felt sick to his stomach. Glancing at the young girl, he scoffed. She looked up from the cobblestones.

"This is your fault," he growled, before slinking away. What would he want with a blind, old cow now?

Esmeralda bit her nail and gave a shaky sigh. What had she done? All for her parents, her lovely little daughter.. Trudging back down the alleyway, she took off into the other direction, the twenty sous jangling in her pocket, mocking her.

* * *

Éponine shot out of bed, her chest heaving, her eyes flying open, expecting to see the thin rays of moonlight that passed through the curtains and landed on Enjolras' cheekbones.

She saw only dark.

The nightmares had plagued her for days on end now. It had been one week since she last saw Enjolras face, one week since she'd seen the sun, seen the lake.. The doctor could do nothing, as predicted. He gave her medicine for pain and salve for the burn. Her eyesight was gone for good, though. Of that he was sure.

Éponine was distraught. She would never be able to see her child, which was what hurt her most. She would love the little dear all the same, but nothing would ever compare to being able to _see _her child. Enjolras did what he could the first few days, but soon, he, too, fell into a cationic-like state. Éponine went into feeling him, his presence, and she could tell he was angry, bitter, sad. One day soon he would come around, Vipond had told her. Clemence and Simon were coming in soon, as well. When Enjolras had locked himself in his library the fifth day of her blindness, Combeferre had come to her rescue, helping her in whatever way he could.

The nightmares, though, were the worst. Éponine could still imagine everything: the trees, the grass, the lilies on the walkway, Enjolras' smile. In her dreams, there was a field. _It was barren of anything but dirt and little pebbles. Éponine had been placed in the middle of it, alone, holding a child whose face she could not see. The wind whipped and blew harder than she had ever felt before, screaming in her ears like a banshee. As the wind blew harder, the ground got hotter until flames were licking her shoes, singeing the bottom of her dress. The babe in her arms screeched and screeched until Éponine could take it no more and the child fell into the flames. Éponine screamed herself, dropped to her knees, scrambling to find the child. In the flames, her face was nearly burnt to a crisp and her eyes were filled with burning sand._

She would then wake up, blind, her skin burning and itching, her heart pounding.

This time was no different.

Éponine groped for some section of her husband. She needed his comfort, needed his arms. Her hand only landed on the cold imprint of where he had been. She could tell by the cold air trapped in the room that it was still night; the sun always warmed the room in the morning. Éponine was still not able to move around herself without bumping into something. Though she knew the outlay of the whole house, it would take time to be able to walk around on her own again. And with the baby, she had to be even more careful when walking.

Éponine scooted back on the bed until her backside rested on the headboard; she pulled her knees up until they could no longer move and she rested her head in the space between her chest and her legs.

The dark tasted bad. It tasted like loneliness and anxiety. From now on, she could only live off of her own hearing and what others told her. Which frightened her immensely. Never had Éponine had to depend on someone so much. She always looked out for herself; not anymore, though. She had to depend on Enjolras fully. She had to trust him to be her guide and center. She had to trust him to be there. And he wasn't.

She heard the door open and her breath stilled. Somewhere in her womb, there was a slight rumble and she resisted the urge to jump. She wanted to whisper "Enjolras," but she held her tongue, knowing it wasn't him. There wasn't any hint of his scent anymore. Instead, it smelled of peppermint and lilac perfume.

Clemence.

She heard the shuffling of feet and suddenly there was a faint orange color on the tips of the corners of her eyes. While Éponine may be fully blind, the edges of her eyes could still faintly detect light, as long as it was bright enough. Clemence must have lit a candle.

"Éponine, dearest," Clemence whispered, settling herself across from the woman, her hand resting on Éponine's knee. "I could hear you down the hall.."

Éponine opened her eyes slowly. Clemence tried not to draw in too harsh of a breath. Éponine once beautiful, chocolate brown eyes were now glazed over with a thin white coat. Her eyes rested slightly over Clemence's shoulder then flicked over to rest on the corner of the room.

Clemence wanted nothing more than to go back in time and punch the foul bastard that had done this to her best friend. Éponine did not want anyone's pity; that much was clear. Clemence would be there, though, to held tide over the fear Éponine was now certainly feeling. And with Enjolras being so distant.. Éponine needed a friend and Clemence would step up to the plate, no matter how much Éponine protested that she could do it all on her own.

"Are you all right? You screamed awful loud. Woke Charles up." Clemence chuckled slightly, trying to ease the tension in the room. She glanced at Enjolras' side of the bed: empty. She knew where he was, but was in no mood to go and strike up their third argument of the day.

Éponine palmed a tear away from her cheek and sniffed. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize that I had screamed."

Clemence nodded, felt her cheeks heat, and then said a quiet, "You did." She cleared her throat. "Do you need anything?"

"No." _Just Enjolras._

"Well, okay. Try and get some rest. It's only just after midnight." Clemence stood and the bed lifted considerably.

Éponine frowned slightly. Clemence had never been so large as to cause the whole bed to nearly move. "Are you pregnant?" she whispered.

Clemence laughed, loud and clear. "No. I'm just holding a rather large book."

"Oh.."

"If you don't need anything, then, goodnight."

Éponine sighed and slipped back underneath the covers. "Goodnight," she mumbled, wondering why she even bothered to close her eyes to sleep anymore.

* * *

In his library, Enjolras heard the piercing scream. He jumped behind his desk and then sighed heavily, cradling his forehead in his palms.

Another nightmare.

He leaned back in his chair, watching the rain fall down the window panes. It seemed so unfair that he could see such things and she couldn't. He could hardly look at her without feeling somewhat responsible.

If only they had cut all ties with her family; what little ties that there were.

If only Bertrand had been stern enough when telling Jordas to leave them alone.

If only this hadn't happened...

Enjolras found himself missing her. He missed the way she felt: soft and smooth. He missed the way she smelt: strawberries and grass. He missed the way she looked: pregnant and lively. He missed the way she sounded: loud and exuberant.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to move his ass and walk thirty steps down the hall and comfort her. He knew she was hurting, scared, yet he could not be beside her. Not when she needed it most..

He felt like a failure.

He _knew _he was a failure when it all happened.

He was supposed to protect her! And he'd let her go blind!

So, he'd thrown himself back into his work, much like he used to be before she came alone. Before she turned him around. There was so much to be done, so much he'd lost track on, that when the door opened and Simon stepped him, he hardly noticed.

"Enjolras?" Simon said, clearing his throat.

He needed to step in.

This had gone on long enough.

There was a five second pause. "Not now, Vipond."

Simon lifted an eyebrow. "_Enjolras!_"

The blond's head shot up. "What?! Oh.. Simon.."

"Your wife needs you." He wasted no time getting to the point; that would be unfair for Éponine.

Enjolras frowned. "She has Clemence."

"Clemence is not you."

Enjolras stood up from his desk and crossed to the front of it; he crossed his arms over his chest. "You must understand that I am a very busy man."

Simon clenched his fists together. His brown hair wavered when he shook his head. "Don't make excuses, Enjolras. You _know _you should be in there; why aren't you?"

Feeling his anger, yet wanting to keep it in check, Enjolras ran his hand over the edge of the desk, counting to ten. Simon continued and Enjolras was rather astounded at his bravery. Any man knew not to cross Enjolras when he was on the brink of anger.

"For the past six nights you have hardly said a word to Éponine, much less seen her. She's hurting; we all are. Why can't you just come out and help her? God knows she's hurting more than you ever could!"

Enjolras turned around and stepped closer to Simon, their faces inches apart, Enjolras' slightly bigger height giving him an advantage. "Don't you dare tell me how my wife is feeling!"

Simon narrowed his eyes. "How would you even know-"

Enjolras was the first to start the fight. He'd had enough of Simon's accusations; as right as they were, he didn't want to face his failure as a husband. Clutching Simon's shoulder, Enjolras pushed him back into the one of the many bookcases, sending a book or two falling. Simon struggled and pushed Enjolras' chest hard enough that the other man fell back onto his haunches on the floor. Enjolras was up, though, in just one moment, sending an upper-cut onto Simon's jaw. Simon reacted quickly, lowering Enjolras with a heavy thud to his nose.

Simon stood there for a moment, his breathing heavy, watching Enjolras clutch his slightly bleeding nose. Enjolras looked up finally, sniffing.

"Go to her," Simon ground out, before leaving the room with the slam of a door.


	21. One Step Ahead

_**A/N: ** My week so far has been non-stop Scrubs, Safe Haven twice, and lots of pizza. I feel so much better now. Thank you so much to **Aerieada **__for being my 300th review! I honestly cannot believe it. I love you all so much; thank you for your support. _

_**Pairings: **E/É; R/OC_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

* * *

_One Step Ahead_

The next morning, Enjolras woke up in a twisted heap on the couch in his library. He stretched his arms, rolled out the crick in his neck, and rubbed his aching toes. Walking to the window, he found it to be misted over with a light frost.

Winter was here; well, it was coming. The tips of the grass had turned white with tiny crystals and the edges of the lake were nearly frozen. Enjolras rubbed his hand over the windowpane and frowned at his reflection.

His nose was slightly askew and bruised. He tenderly touched it and drew in a sharp breath. Had Simon broken his nose? It could be possible. It certainly _felt _broken. Enjolras curled his hand into a fist and groaned, banging his head against the windowpane. After a few good minutes of sulking, he turned on his heels (nearly slipping because of his socks) and walked out of the library, intent on finding Simon.

* * *

"Éponine, do you need anything else?" Grantaire fluffed the pillow behind Éponine's head once more before stepping back.

She shook her head and sighed heavily. "No. Thank you, though."

Grantaire nodded. "You're welcome." He moved toward the door, then turned around before handing the shift off to Combeferre. "And, Éponine, he'll come around. Don't worry. Until then, we'll be here for you."

Éponine smiled slightly; or at least, it felt like she had smiled. She heard the door close for a second, and then open again, Combeferre's soft footsteps echoing in the room. She heard him settle down on the seat that had been pulled away from the vanity; he sighed heavily and bumped something, gasping as he reached to grab it. Finally, she heard him settle.

He cleared his throat; thankful she could not see his obvious embarrassment. "Éponine."

She turned her head slightly; Combeferre looked down when her eyes failed to find any portion of his head. "'Ferre." She licked her lips. "Do you know where.. Enjolras is?"

She heard him fiddle with something; the drawer maybe. "No. I'm sorry. I think Joly said he was speaking with Simon, but Joly left an hour or so ago; God knows where he could be now.."

Éponine nodded and rested her hand on her stomach. She was around five months now; just big enough to know she was pregnant, but not big enough to fret over. As of yet, she had only felt little rumbles in her stomach; hardly distinguishable from other things. Not knowing how big she would eventually get, or what the baby would look like, killed her.

The room was silent for a few more moments before she sat up straight and her eyes flew open, though her world still remained dark. A tiny cry left her lips and she suddenly felt Combeferre's presence by her side.

"Éponine! Éponine, what is it? Do you need anything?"

She shook her head and smiled, putting her hand lower on her stomach. "I felt something."

Combeferre creased his brow. "What?"

"The baby; I felt the baby do something," she whispered. "Give me your hand."

Combeferre hesitated and looked over his shoulder at the closed door. If anyone were to walk in, it would certainly look odd, but Éponine's hand was searching for his desperately and she could not find it. She looked so.. so.. _weak. _Combeferre closed his eyes briefly and then placed his hand in hers.

She squeezed his fingers before resting his hand on her stomach. He felt nothing, so he kept studying her obviously excited face with a rather perplexed one of his own. She squealed quietly again and her eyes fell just past his shoulder. He swallowed, feeling awkward and extremely depressed.

How could she be so happy knowing that she would never see _anything _again?

He didn't understand it.

"Did you feel that?" she whispered after a moment.

He shook his head, then mentally slapped himself. "No. I didn't."

Éponine was quiet, then she said, "Oh." She sounded disappointed.

Combeferre drew his hand away, and rested his hand on her cheek. "How are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

He scoffed and looked away, his hand falling to his lap. "You know exactly what I mean, Éponine."

Éponine looked away and closed her eyes. "I have the baby," she whispered. "Somehow, that keeps me grounded. It wouldn't do me any good if I curled up into a ball and sobbed my life away just because I can't see, 'Ferre."

"You're braver than I thought."

Éponine lifted her hand, but then lowered it. She wanted to pat Combeferre's knee, but after trying to find his hand, she didn't want to risk further embarrassment so she kept it at her side. "Thank you," she said sincerely. Sitting slightly straighter, she asked if he could help her down to the kitchen, for she was getting rather hungry.

"Of course."

* * *

Enjolras rested his forehead in his hands. Simon leaned back in his chair, feeling rather proud of himself. Enjolras had come to his senses, after his friend checked out his nose and found it to be slightly broken. Several glasses of whiskey down, Enjolras had realized his mistake in abandoning Éponine. And Simon was glad.

Both men looked up at the sound of footsteps in the hall. Enjolras stood up and went to the open door, smirking slightly as Combeferre and Éponine argued as he led her to the kitchen.

"Combeferre, I know where I am going!"

"Obviously you don't because the door you just ran in to goes to a closet!" Éponine tried to pull away from him, but he held firm. "Would you just let me help you, dammit?!"

Éponine lifted her chin and looked away. "Not if you're going to be rude about it."

Combeferre groaned and shifted so he could look at Enjolras. "You take her, _Rogier. _I mean, she if your _wife, _after all, and she's a pain in the ass!"

Éponine raised her foot to stamp on his, but then lowered it to the ground slowly. "I am not a pain in the ass, and I don't need Rogier's help; I can do it myself." She wrenched her elbow away from Combeferre's hand and nearly stumbled, but supported herself with the wall.

Combeferre took a step away. And soon, three men were watching intently as she walked down the hall, her hands guiding her. In truth, it was the first time she had really been by herself in her blindness, besides at night. It felt oddly freeing to be walking alone again, without any help from Joly or Jehan. She grew confidant as the minutes went on, but completely forgot about the small table in the center of the wall holding a large bust.

Her knee slammed into the table leg and she faltered, her hands leaving the wall, searching for something to hold onto. Her hands only resulted in pushing the table away even farther and the bust wobbled, threatening to tip forward onto Éponine. Enjolras acted quickly as he saw the marble sway and he darted forward, grabbing Éponine's waist at the last moment, pulling her away so the bust shattered on the floor.

Éponine's breathing was heavy as her hands latched onto his shoulders. Enjolras had his hands tight on her waist, holding her steadily. "Are you all right?" he finally asked, in hushed tones.

Éponine swallowed and nodded, burrowing her head onto his shoulder. It was the first time he had touched her since he left all those nights ago. She relished the feel of his arms around her; she'd missed him. Enjolras stiffened after a moment and gently pushed her away. Éponine scowled.

"What were you headed for?"

"The kitchen." Éponine sighed. "Would you help me?"

Enjolras slipped his arm around her waist and held her close. He resisted the urge to spin her around and apologize profusely. There would be time enough for that later. Entering the kitchen, he sat her down at the table and then stood off to the side awkwardly. Éponine craned her head to try and find him, but gave up, returning her hazy glare to the wall.

"What is it that you want?"

"An omelet, please," she whispered. "I haven't eaten in awhile."

Enjolras nodded and set about finding eggs and cheese, making sure to put in extra cheese, just as she liked it. When he set the plate in front of her (the omelet all ready cut up for her sake), he nearly cried when she sat waiting.

"I don't feel a fork any where around here.."

"Right. Yes, a fork. I'm sorry." He reached into the door and retrieved one. "Here."

Éponine's fingers wrapped around his own as she plucked the metal from his hand with her other. When she didn't let go, he settled down beside her, and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles while she ate quietly.

"Éponine, I-"

"Enjolras, you-"

Éponine laughed when they both spoke together, and Enjolras looked away, angry that she could be so calm when he could not. He cleared his throat and let go of her hand. "You go first."

She nodded, found the edge of her plate, and pushed it away. "All right. I wanted to ask you why you have been so distant lately?" She turned her head toward where she could feel him; her eyes landed on a spot just below his left eye. "What is it that I've done?"

Enjolras ran his hand over his chin and shook his head. "You've done nothing, Éponine. It's.. me. I'm the one who abandoned you when you needed me most. I sincerely apologize." He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I must admit that I feel slightly responsible for-"

"Enjolras, you know that's not true!"

He waved his hand and then blinked. "Éponine, I'm sorry. That is all I can say. I will strive to do better in the future. Can you forgive me?"

Éponine furrowed her brow in thought. He had left her alone and scared the first couple of days; but as time went on, maybe him abandoning her for that short while was best. Éponine still loved him with all of her heart, of that she was certain, but she had been faced with her blindness alone and therefore, she had learned to begin to deal with it. Enjolras wasn't there to mollycoddle her and hinder her from _learning _how to live. She had certainly learned how to handle herself. Oddly enough, she was thankful.

As much as it had hurt the first few days, as much as she had missed him and needed him, he had helped her.

Éponine nodded then and she heard Enjolras sigh and his hand covered hers once more. His forehead pressed against the side of her head. His hand moved to cup the side of her face, bringing her to face him.

"I love you," he whispered.

Éponine smiled slightly. "I love you, too."

"I promise you that I'll do better."

Éponine closed her eyes. "I know."

She lifted her hand and rested her fingertips on his cheek. They were slightly damp from tears she didn't know he was crying. She slid her fingers along the curve of his brow and down the slope of his nose. There was a firm bandage there and she pulled back.

Enjolras chuckled. "Simon did some convincing last night. Broke the thing.."

Éponine smiled and continued her scope. Her fingers found his eyelids and his strong jaw and finally his lips. She could feel the smile against the pads of her skin, and she, too, smiled wider. He pressed a small kiss to her fingers and then moved her hand away; instead occupying her hand on his chest, dipping in to steal a kiss.

* * *

A few hours later, Éponine shifted and rested her head on Enjolras' shoulder. They were cuddled up in bed, his arm thrown around her shoulders so she was pulled close, reading a book with the hand not currently occupied with rubbing circles on her shoulder.

Éponine cleared her throat and whispered against his skin, "I missed you."

Enjolras looked away from the words on the page and to his right slightly. "I was right here the whole time."

"Not really.."

Enjolras sighed and pressed a kiss to her hair. "I'm sorry."

"Do you want to feel the baby?" she whispered suddenly, sitting up, nearly toppling off the bed. Enjolras caught her and shifted so they sat in the middle.

"What?" he asked, slightly amused.

Éponine nodded, bit her lip, and smiled; her eyes rested on the wall beside his shoulder. He would never get used to that. "Do you want to feel the baby kick?"

"Yes.. I suppose." Enjolras laughed nervously.

"Give me your hand." Éponine reached out with both of hers and when she felt his worn hand in her own, she cleared her throat, sat a little straighter, and placed his hand low on her stomach.

Nothing.

Enjolras shifted, uncomfortable.

"Say something," she said. "The baby always moves when you say something."

"What do I say? Am I supposed to talk to the – Oh!" There is was. At the sound of his voice, the baby moved slightly and Enjolras felt a little tremble. He looked up and Éponine's face was shinning with emotion.

"Keep going," she urged.

"Does it hurt?" he asked. Another rumble. Éponine shook her head.

"He likes you. Or she.." Éponine chuckled.

"Doesn't your stomach feel really – Éponine, the baby kicked! Did you feel that?! Well, of course you felt it." Enjolras kept his voice low, but he knew it sounded awe-struck. The baby kicked again and he smiled, finally pulling his hand away.

"The baby always moves around when you talk."

Enjolras beamed with pride. Éponine could feel his smile hit the ceiling and bounce around the room. She wished more than anything she could see it. Gently, she ran her fingers over his cheeks, feeling the dimples.

His muscles relaxed into a content grin and he leaned into her touch. "I really am _so sorry _that I caused you an extra pain." His hand twined around a loose lock of hair and then fell to her knee.

"Well, I was always one step ahead of you, Rogier."

"What do you mean?"

"I forgave you before you even committed the act."


	22. The Kick

_**A/N: **__So, I have officially caught up with myself and I have no more pre-written chapters for this story. That means that updates will come a little slower (especially this week because I'm a junior counselor at __**another **__camp and I won't be getting home until 3:30 every day)._

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Trolololol.**_

* * *

_The Kick_

Éponine's eighth month fell in December. She had been blind for two months, and each day the pain got a little less and her heart grew a little bit stronger. Things were still hard, of course. Enjolras kept his promise and he handled her blindness better and better each day. He learned when to back off when she was intent on doing something herself; and he learned when to do something for her when she was unable and just too prideful to ask.

They were still happy. They always would be.

_Les Amis _were supportive as well. They came over often, especially now that it was nearing the holidays. Meetings had reconvened, but now were held in the Enjolras home. (Rogier never did like being too far away from his wife considering her pregnancy.)

In the middle of December, one a day in which Éponine was so cold she could hardly feel her feet and toes, there came a loud knock on the door. Enjolras looked up from his sitting chair in the front room; Éponine stopped drawing patterns on the arm rest. The knock came again and Enjolras sighed, setting down his book, crossing the floor to open the door.

A cold gust of wind swept into the room, along with Bertrand and Lindy Enjolras, bundled tightly with furs and coats. It had been months since there was any contact between Enjolras and his parents; they still did not know of Éponine's pregnancy, nor her blindness. He could hear her ask who was at the door from the other side of the room, but he shielded the doorway into the parlor with his body, intent on getting his parents out as quickly as possible.

"Well, Rogier, aren't you going to allow us in?" Lindy quipped, her feet dancing slightly on the marble floor in an attempt to get warm.

Enjolras straightened his back and shook his head. "No." He watched her face tighten with satisfaction.

"That is no way to speak to your mother, boy."

Enjolras ignored his father's comment. "What did you come here for?" he asked instead.

"We have heard no news of you and the girl. We came to get "updated" since it seemed you had no intention of writing us anytime soon."

"Éponine is pregnant."

Lindy clapped her hands together and a bright smile lit up her face. "Oh how wonderful!"

"Yes," Bertrand said slowly. "Anything else then?"

"No. Now, can you please leave?"

Bertrand shook his head and slowly pulled off his gloves. "Thought we might stay for the holidays; us being a family and all. Clemence is here, correct?"

Enjolras rolled his neck and looked away. "Yes."

"Good! It will be a family gathering, like old times, huh?" Bertrand helped Lindy take her coat off. "Send that boy of yours outside to fetch our bags; we'll be upstairs until dinner. Long travels, I'm sure you understand, son."

* * *

Enjolras closed the door with a slam. Éponine jumped from where she was waiting beside – what she thought was – the window.

"I hate those insufferable gits," he muttered, pouring himself a generous glass of whiskey.

Éponine took a tiny step away from the window. "It _was _your parents then?"

He nodded and took another swallow.

Éponine cleared her throat. "You didn't answer me."

"Dammit. Éponine, I'm sorry-"

"Enjolras, it's f-"

"No! It's not fine!"

Éponine opened her mouth to retaliate, but snapped it shut. "Sometimes you forget. Sometimes I forget."

"We can't just.. _forget_," he seethed, turning to face her. "Éponine, this baby is coming soon, my parents are upstairs and they have no idea of your blindness; we cannot afford to forget!"

Éponine closed her eyes and turned her body away from him, now facing the wall. "I would like to forget," she breathed, her hands running over her large stomach.

Rogier curled his hand around the cup in his hands. "I know, but you can't. That's just not possible, Éponine. We have to face the facts. Things are going to change dramaticly around here from now on."

"If that's what you think is right.."

Enjolras nearly groaned. Pregnancy and becoming blind had stripped Éponine of her normal zeal for arguments and confrontations. It annoyed Enjolras slightly that she would so willingly just allow him to become her rock. Though, before they'd both supported one another greatly before and after she became pregnant, Éponine had always been independent. Enjolras admired that greatly in her.

Now, because she had to hold his arm when walking through the halls and ask him who it was that had arrived for a visit or what the weather was doing outside, she was quick to comply with what he wanted. She knew what he thought was in her best interest now (It always had been, but even more so).

"Come, then," he said firmly, setting his glass down on the mantle. "Let's go get washed up." He held out his arm and walked toward her. Éponine heard his footsteps come closer; she backed away.

"You go on," she whispered. "I'll be fine just waiting here."

"Are you sure?"

"I can handle myself perfectly, Enjolras," Éponine quipped, looking away. "Just go, please."

Enjolras let his arm fall to his side. He was thankful she was unable to see the unmasked guilt and pain that fell on his face like a shadow. Tentatively, he pressed a kiss to her cheek. Éponine did not flinch, but she did not respond. Enjolras drew away and left the room quickly, his heart beating too fast and for reasons he could not place.

Whatever had just happened in there was beyond him.

He couldn't tell if they'd fought, or if she was angry with him or with herself. He knew the air was tense and they had argued slightly on him forgetting her blindness for a mere three seconds. He stumbled up the stairs, passing Adoulf in the hall looking rather worried and sickly.

Enjolras pushed into his room, not the room he and Éponine had begun sharing. Slamming the door shut, he threw water onto his hot face and fell back onto the bed, breathing deeply.

He loved his wife. He loved Éponine.

But at that moment, he really didn't want to deal with her blindness anymore. It was too much of a hazard to him. What with the rebellion and everyone's plans, when she had the baby, he would have to be around twenty-four seven. He couldn't possibly do that! School – his final year – would start again eventually; what would they do then?

Éponine would want to take care of their child herself, but she wouldn't be able to. He would have to step up to the plate even farther. Was he really willing to possibly abandon the rebellion for this? Shouldn't he be? Then why did he feel as if he wasn't?

Sometimes, Enjolras made himself sick.

This was one of those times.

* * *

Éponine slowly made her way down the halls, her hands pressed against the wall for support. She rounded the corner and bumped into Vipond. The elderly gentleman laughed and took a step back.

"Ho-ho there, Éponine! You gave me a fright. Would you like some help into the dining room?" He offered his arm to her and Éponine latched onto it, grateful. "You've been doing mighty well," Vipond whispered. "I'm very proud of you."

The young woman smiled and when Vipond pulled out a chair for her and carefully maneuvered her so she would be able to sit, she thanked him from the bottom of her heart. Vipond colored slightly and waved a hand.

"My dear, anything for you!"

"Will you go get Enjolras for me? I don't think I want to be alone when his parents come down. They still don't know anything about my.. you know." She waved her hand in front of her face.

"Oh. Right, right. Of course, I'll go get him right away, _madame._"

"Thank you, Vipond."

It took several minutes, but Vipond was finally able to rouse Enjolras to come downstairs. The younger man had failed to change, but he didn't really mind. Éponine sat, alone, in the dining room when he entered. He steeled himself and walked forward to her chair, putting a hand on her shoulder, leaning down to kiss her temple lightly before moving far enough away.

Éponine looked to her left, as she should, but her eyes rested just slightly above his stomach. "I'm sorry if I was rude, Enjolras, earlier this evening. I'm a little scared about meeting you parents again.. like this."

This only further irritated Enjolras, so he settled down in the seat beside Éponine, rolled his neck, and then said, "It's fine."

Éponine appeared to get the message and looked ahead at the wall, her hands folded on the top of her stomach. He turned to simply study her, much like the day in the carriage when he'd realized that she was quite stunning.

Her hands were shaking slightly. If it had been any other evening, he would have held them to stop her nerves. But he was too worked up, his brain was in too much of a buzz with thoughts of his parents, the rebellion, and his unborn child to think about comforting her. Her eyes, ever unfocused, seemed to grow more and more hazy every day. They lacked the spark that had once inhibited them. Her hair was still soft as ever; her skin glowed.

Éponine was still Éponine, she just wasn't... Éponine.

It didn't make any sense to Enjolras either.

"I can feel you staring at me," she whispered suddenly.

Enjolras cleared his throat and looked away, taking another bitter sip of whiskey. He leaned in close to her ear and whispered, "My parents are coming in. I'll handle telling them." He stood up and went behind Éponine's chair.

Bertrand and Lindy entered the room, Bertrand nodding at the couple before taking his seat. Lindy, rather, went forward to hug Éponine, her smile radiant as she saw Éponine's stomach for the first time. Enjolras cut her off, though, guiding her to the chair opposite Éponine. Lindy tried not to seem phased, but failed utterly.

"Mother, Father," Enjolras pressed his hands on Éponine's shoulder. He could feel the shaking, so he held a little tighter, hoping to somewhat calm her. Once he was sure he had their full attention, he blinked. "Éponine was in an accident a couple of months ago involving her father. In said accident, she became blind."

Lindy had the decency to raise her hand to her mouth in shock. Bertrand remained unaffected. Both father and son stared each other dead in the eye for a few moments; the room was silent. Éponine could feel her stomach churning and it wasn't just because of the baby now. She finally found her voice.

"Someone say something, _please_." As much as she wished it would come out strong and harsh, it came out weak and choked instead. Enjolras' fingers tightened on her shoulders.

"That is certainly... unfortunate," Bertrand said at long last.

Enjolras scoffed. "Father, don't be-"

Bertrand shot his son a look that could silence a drunk, ranting Grantaire. "Éponine, my darling, we are truly sorry and we will do anything we can to help you and the child."

"Thank you," Éponine whispered, her hands shaking harder than ever. They were full of bullshit, she knew. They would be gone by morning now that they were aware of her condition. Enjolras would finally be cut off. There was no way in hell they wanted to deal with a blind daughter-in-law, or a regular daughter-in-law for that matter.

Suddenly, she felt tears in her eyes.

She hadn't cried since the day she became blind. She swallowed them down and looked away, hoping her chest wasn't heaving as bad as it felt.

"Éponine, are you all right?" The sweet voice of Lindy broke the silence once more.

Out of habit, Éponine only nodded, but she could feel her heart beat quicken with every second. Enjolras' hands on her shoulders did not help the problem, either. She knew that he was only doing that because his parents were in the room; he was having an off day with her. Usually on off days, he would shut himself away, work on the revolution and what-not.

God, he made her so angry.

Slowly, Éponine stood up, her hand clutching the underside of her stomach. She needed a way out; she needed fresh air.

But she wouldn't be able to get out of the room without making herself look like a fool.

"Rogier, take me to the boat house, please," she whispered harshly.

The hand on her back tightened. "What?"

"Take me outside, _Enjolras_," she repeated.

"Right. Right, okay. Hold on." His one arm wrapped around her middle, taking hold of her opposite elbow. Enjolras leaned over his wife's shoulder. "We'll be right back."

Gently, he guided her outside and to the boat house where she roughly shoved him away, thankful the room was mostly empty. She ran a hand through her hair and blew out a deep breath.

"Are you okay, Éponine?" Her husband's voice was now soft and full of concern.

She still was unable to breathe properly. Putting her hand on her head, Éponine closed her eyes and thought of happier things. "No. I don't think I am."

She heard him take a few steps forward. "Well, what do you want me to do?"

"Nothing," she rasped, bending over slightly. The baby was moving something awful and it wasn't helping her nerves, only heightening them. "Stand.. Stand over there."

"You don't look too well. Are you going to be sick?" Éponine shrugged, pushing back bile. "Sit down, please."

"_No. _Just stay over there, Enjolras!"

He took a step back. "Okay. All right.."

All of a sudden, Éponine felt a sharp pain in her womb. And then another, except much less. Éponine put her hands on her stomach and double over even further. This time, Enjolras was by her side in less than a second. He guided her slowly backward until she hit a stool; she perched herself on the edge, breathing shallowly.

"Éponine, what is it? Tell me what to do!" Enjolras was feeling quite helpless. He'd forgotten all the stress from earlier in the day now. He pushed back some of her hair.

Éponine, with her eyes glued shut, bent forward, one hand on her stomach, the other on Enjolras' left forearm. "Dear God, Rogier, I think this baby is coming."


	23. Little Steps

_**A/N: **__Ah! You guys are my favorite. Though, I think only one person (__**Eponine Sparrow**__) may have realized that the baby is coming a month too soon! Anyway, thank you for all your enthusiasm. I love to see that. _

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

* * *

_Little Steps_

Enjolras faltered completely. His mouth ran dry and his limbs seized up. When Éponine doubled-over, her teeth gritted as she attempted to hold in a cry, he sprang to action once more. Gently, he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and pulled her into a standing position. Éponine had her eyes screwed shut, her hands placed on her stomach, as if she were trying to hold the baby in.

"You can walk, right?" he questioned.

"Of course, you shit," she growled, shoving him with her elbow.

Enjolras smiled to himself, albeit ruefully. Then, he guided her as slowly as possible back to the house. His parents were conversing quietly in the corner when they walked in, Enjolras murmuring to Éponine that everything was going to be all right. Lindy turned around, a shocked look on her face.

"What is it, Rogier?" she exclaimed.

"The baby is coming. Please, Mother, help her upstairs so I can go fetch a doctor."

Éponine latched her hands onto Enjolras' arms. "_No._" She sucked in a deep breath, and whispered, "Rogier, please don't leave me."

Enjolras pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned quietly. "Éponine, I must go. No one-"

Bertrand, awkwardly, shuffled forward. "I'll go."

The room fell silent until Lindy straightened up and frowned at her husband. "Excuse me?"

Bertrand looked away, embarrassment shinning clearly on his face. "I will go get the doctor so the boy can stay with his wife.."

Éponine rose her voice. "Good. Then scram 'cause this damn thing won't stay in much longer." As if to punctuate her sentence, she let out a tiny cry and nearly toppled over into Enjolras' arms. "Joly," she whispered then. "I want Joly."

Though the thought touched his heart, Enjolras knew Joly was in no way ready to deliver his first baby. And besides, Bertrand wouldn't go near any of Enjolras' friends if his life depended on it. In order to appease Éponine, though, Enjolras turned to his father. "She would like one of my friends to do the procedure."

"Good God, no! _That _is where I draw the line."

"Fine. But I would like Combeferre here; he, too, is somewhat of a medical student. Please, Father, go get whatever doctor you like, but also return with Alexander."

Bertrand weighed the decision for a second and then curtly nodded. "Where will I find the lad?"

Now desperate as Éponine was pressing her full weight onto him, Enjolras mustered, "The – The library, or the café! _Go!_"

Snapping to attention, Bertrand rushed from the room and out the door. Vipond had entered the room with a basin full of warm water, handing it off to Lindy, who was pressing a warm cloth to Éponine's forehead. The elderly gentleman pried Enjolras from Éponine, passing her off to Lindy who maneuvered the woman to the mint couch nearly the window.

"Run upstairs, boy, and fetch linens and pillows and towels. She's too fragile to move upstairs." Vipond rested his hand on Enjolras' shoulder. "I must tell you something, too, son. Will you listen?" Enjolras nodded, bewildered. "This baby is coming far too early."

"Damn," Enjolras said, running a hand through his hair, glancing over at Éponine, who was struggling to sit down. "I'd forgotten it was her eighth month."

Vipond swallowed the anxiety forming in his throat; he'd seen this before. "Just.. prepare yourself for the worst."

Enjolras stared at Vipond with the widest eyes. "You don't think.. she'll.. die, do you?"

Vipond could only shrug. "Only the good Lord knows that. Now, run along; don't be a waste of space."

* * *

Lindy had never felt more useful. She glanced up at the woman sprawled out on the couch before her. Éponine's chest was heaving, certainly, and her brow was drenched it sweat, but Lindy could not be more astounded at her beauty.

Pregnancy did that to women.

Suddenly, the young girl focused her hazy attention on the mother-in-law. "You've done this before, right?"

Lindy gave a sweet laugh. "I've delivered three times, but never have I helped. I am willing to do what I can, my dear."

Éponine smiled, rested her head on the arm-rest, and breathed deeply. "I don't think the water has come yet.." Her voice was meek, small, embarrassed.

"Neither do I. That could prove to be a problem, but for now, just try and rest." Lindy was determined to become a better grandmother, a better mother, through this. If the young, _blind _woman could do it, Lindy could, too.

She patted Éponine's arm and stood up, moving across the floor. Enjolras came back in, towels and sheets and pillows overspilling from his arms. Lindy had never seen her son look so terrified. She took the things from his arms and pointed to the couch, as she moved to prepare them. Enjolras darted away from his mother and to the side of his love, instantly taking her hand.

The cook, Vipond, Lindy remembered, came over to his former-mistress. "This will be a long night for us all."

Lindy folded a sheet in her arm. "_Oui. _It shall. I only hope Bertrand returns soon."

"_Madame, _if I may ask-"

A few horses pulled up in the back and three men dismounted, running in through the back door. Enjolras stood up as his dear friend entered, smiling cautiously. Lindy put an hand on Vipond's arm. "Save that thought, please."

She hastened to her husband and was quickly introduced to the man who would delived the child, Claude Lawrent. When Éponine let out another sharp cry, yelling something about water, Claude thought it best the room be cleared, all besides himself and Combeferre. Enjolras protested greatly at first, but with a firm look from his father, he agreed and left the room slowly.

Claude bent to Éponine and introduced himself. He'd been informed of her blindness on the way, but was not nervous in the least. He'd done this too many times before to be worried about that; he had it all under control.

He quickly checked her condition and then looked up at the woman. "Éponine, your baby is coming, yes, but this is going to be complicated. It is simply too early."

Éponine shifted herself up onto her elbows. "Well.. what are you going to do?"

Claude sighed. "There's nothing I can do. We will deliver the baby and go from there."

"Do you think my baby will be okay?"

Claude shared a look with Combeferre. "I certainly do hope so."

Combeferre took a place beside Éponine, taking her hand in his. "We will do all that we can."

"Good. Alexander, get a hold of her hand. When I tell you to push, young lady, you push with all your might. Do you understand?" Éponine nodded. "Wonderful. Now – push!"

* * *

Out in the foyer, both Lindy and Enjolras were pacing dents into the floor. Enjolras desperately wanted back inside. He _needed _to be with his wife. The room had been quiet for too long. What if something had happened? What if Éponine was..

He raked his hands through his hair.

From the steps, Bertrand groaned. "Pacing will do you no good, boy."

Enjolras shot a glare at his father. "What would you know?"

"I know many things about child-birth."

"Yes, Father, because you know _everything,_" Enjolras quipped.

Bertrand scoffed and jumped down from the steps. "I delivered you with my own hands!"

"Is that true, Mother?"

Lindy shrugged and stepped nearer to her husband and son. "Well, yes and no-"

"_Yes._"

Lindy ignored Bertrand. "He did, yes, but he also left shortly after for work." She shot her husband a sickening grin. Bertrand stepped down and returned to sulking on the stairs. Enjolras beamed at his mother. "Your wife is going to be fine. Do not worry, my son."

"Worrying? I'm not worrying-" A sharp cry hit the air from inside of the room and Enjolras lept for the door, only to be pulled back by Vipond. "Let me in there, Vipond! That's my wife!"

"It is never a good idea for a husband as frantic as you to be inside of a birthing room! You'll only make her nervous!"

Enjolras still struggled against the older man. "But I _should _be in there."

"In a few moments, we will check and see if they want you-"

"They should!"

"They might not. Now sit!"

Enjolras pushed himself away from Vipond, frowning. His father laughed quietly on the stairs. He resumed his pacing and waited. With every cry or whine or shriek that sounded, he stopped looked at the door, looked at Vipond (who always shook his head), then went back to creating a hole in the floor.

After hours and hours of that procedure, a very sweaty, slightly bloody Combeferre entered the foyer, a broad smile on his face. Enjolras swallowed. "Well?" he yelped, his voice cracking.

"They're both fine." He wiped his blood off his hands onto a rag in hand.

"B-both? As in, the baby is okay?"

Combeferre nodded, obviously enjoying keeping the information to himself. He liked to see the vein pulse in Enjolras' forehead when he got angry.

"Tell me, dammit!"

"A baby girl."

The news washed over Enjolras in a tidal wave. He reached for the banister, his head spinning. A baby girl; a beautiful baby girl. "A girl," he breathed.

"Come on; come see her." Combeferre took his friend's elbow and led him into the room. Éponine rested on the couch, the babe swaddled in her arms. She was crying from exhaustion and depression. The babe in her arms was flinging her little arms and legs. Éponine could feel the movements, but couldn't see them. Her heart hurt desperately, and when Enjolras came to kneel beside her, the best she could do was smile slightly, both elated and sad at the birth.

Enjolras leaned over his wife and took in his first-born. She was tiny. So very tiny. The doctor was telling him something about how they would have to watch what she ate and have to keep her warm constantly because she was so tiny. Enjolras was barely listening. Éponine made a motion to tell him to take her, and he did, falling back onto his bottom on the floor.

The baby stared up at him, her fingers trying to find his nose. She cooed. Enjolras choked back a sob. Éponine turned her head toward the nose, wiping at her cheeks.

"What does she look like?"

Enjolras smiled and brushed his finger over the baby's cheek; he was vaguely aware of the doctor and Combeferre leaving to give them some privacy. "She looks like you. She had your nose, your beautiful hair."

"Does she have your eyes?"

Enjolras felt a tear on his cheek. "Yes."

Éponine, in spite of herself, laughed. "Good."

"She so beautiful, Éponine." He looked up. "Her name?"

"I was thinking.. Amelie."

"Amelie," Enjolras repeated. "I like it."

"I love you, Enjolras," Éponine whispered, her heart breaking of jealousy and sadness.

He chuckled, completely forgetting the world. _He _was a father! "I love you, too; both of you."

His heart was full.

Her heart, though it should be overflowing, was nearing empty.


	24. Glorious Feeling

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

* * *

_Glorious Feeling_

A week after Amelie was born, Enjolras finally felt as though he was getting the hang of this father-thing. Éponine did what she could (which was mostly feeding), while Enjolras did the rest. Vipond watched Amelie while he worked or went to meetings and he took over when he came home. They were slowly falling into a good routine, but it was safe to say he'd only gotten five or six hours of sleep since she'd been born.

Half of that was his own fault: he found it too easy to watch Amelie while she slept, all peaceful and calm. But the other half was _her _fault; she would wake up and cry and he would do what he could to rock her back to sleep.

Éponine was the way Enjolras thought she would be: quiet and distant. There wasn't much that she could do for the baby, as much as she wanted to. All of it required.. sight. Enjolras knew it would take some time before she was able to finally be "hands-on" with the child, but now, he was more than happy to do it all.

One evening, as he was walking down the hall, the baby nestled against his chest sleeping quietly, Enjolras heard the someone knock on the door. Sighing, he turned on his heels and went down the stairs quickly. He opened the door and was pleased to see Courfeyrac and Joly. The two were bearing two large packages and they stepped into the house with broad smiles.

Enjolras laughed. "What are all these for?"

"The baby, of course," Courfeyrac said, rolling his eyes. "Where can I set this?"

Enjolras shifted Amelie to his other arm and pointed to the sitting room. "Somewhere in there. You didn't have to get us anything.." He followed the two into the room.

"It wasn't really us, actually. My mother sent some things."

"It was Muchetta." Joly blushed.

Enjolras chuckled. "It's nice to know I have friends who care."

Courfeyrac shrugged. "What can I say?" He laughed lightly and then gestured to the baby. "Can I see her?"

Enjolras looked down at the sleeping child. "Oh, certainly. Here," he whispered. "Would you like to hold her?"

Courfeyrac's hand twitched. "I won't.. hurt her?"

"Not unless you drop her." Enjolras gave Courf a pointed look. "Which you will not. Now, hold out your arms."

Courfeyrac did so and Enjolras gently put Amelie in the other man's arms. She woke with a start and started to cry, which alarmed Courfeyrac greatly. He was only accustomed to dealing with children of Gavroche's age; not newborn babes. Joly flinched beside him.

"She probably has the colic," he mumbled.

"Hold her closer, Charles!" Enjolras pushed Courfeyrac's arms closer to his chest. "Bounce her gently then.." The younger man did so and soon, the baby was suckling gently on the edge of her thumb.

"She's beautiful, Enjolras," Courfeyrac wondered.

Enjolras nodded and shoved his hands into his pockets. "She is." He turned to Joly. "Would you like to tell me what is in those boxes then?"

Joly moved to the packages and opened the them up quickly. Inside the one from Muchetta were several blankets and a couple of knitted things for the winter. Most of all, there were books for Enjolras to read on taking care of children. In the box from Courfeyrac were many dresses and clothes that had once belonged to Courfeyrac's younger sister.

Enjolras nodded and smiled slightly. "Tell them both I said thank you."

Joly shifted on his feet. "How is Éponine doing?" he asked, meekly.

"She's.. coping."

"Is she handling the child well?"

"As best as she can."

"You know, Enjolras," Joly stated, clearing his throat. "I have several pamphlets about newer surgeries that are coming out that could possibly heal the blind-"

Enjolras sighed and held his hand up. "Joly, I do thank you, but I don't think we would be able to go through with that."

Courfeyrac frowned and began bouncing Amelie once she started crying again. "Why ever not? It would bring her back to normal health!"

"But what of the risks?" Enjolras took the baby back from Courfeyrac and rested her head on his shoulders, rubbing her back. "What could it do to ruin her health even more, Joly?"

Joly looked away and wrung his hands together. "There are more risks than not, yes.."

"Exactly. I don't want to put her through anything unless it is sure to work."

"But if you would just look at them-"

Enjolras held up his hand. "No, thank you, Joly." His face softened. "I think it's time Amelie was fed and put down for awhile; I will see you all tonight.. at the meeting."

The two men nodded and bowed out, feeling slightly awkward and bad considering Enjolras' situation. Enjolras showed them to the door and they left with stilted goodbyes. As the door closed, Enjolras then turned and headed for his room. Éponine sat in their bed, like always. When the door opened, she looked toward the sound and smiled, knowing it was Enjolras.

"Who was that?" she asked.

"Courfeyrac and Joly. They brought some things for Amelie," he said, lowering the baby into her arms. Éponine instantly stiffened and then relaxed after a few moments. Her eyes feel on Amelie's forehead. "I think she might be hungry. She was crying a lot.."

Éponine nodded. "Oh." She sighed and lifted one hand to the front ties of her nightgown. Enjolras swallowed as she bared herself and lifted the baby to her chest. Amelie found what she was looking for quickly and rooted herself, nursing away happily. Then Éponine smirked. "I can feel you staring."

Enjolras stood up and looked off out the window, running a hand through his curls. "I apologize."

Éponine laughed for the first time in ages. "No, please, it's fine." She'd much rather he stare at her actually; she felt.. whole then if she was able to still evoke the same feelings she'd been able to before she went blind.

Enjolras turned away from the window and sat beside his wife on the bed. "I have a meeting tonight," he finally said. "Do you think you'll be all right alone? I know Vipond is going to be gone for the night."

"Yes. Yes, of course I'll be fine," Éponine said quickly, smiling brightly. "I can do it."

Enjolras swiped his thumb across Éponine's cheek, kissing it softly. "I know you can."

"Then you go to your meeting, Rogier, and the two of us will be fine. I promise."

* * *

Enjolras left just after dinner. Éponine sat with Amelie in the sitting room; Éponine was humming softly, fingering all the dresses and such that Courfeyrac's mother had given, trying desperately to figure out what they looked like. She was slightly nervous. It was the first time she'd been left alone with Amelie when no one else was present.

She knew she could do it. After all, all she had to do was wait in the sitting room until Enjolras got home. If the baby started crying, rock her or feed her; it was as simple as that.

Éponine wished she could see her daughter.

Actually, she wished she could see anything, _something. _Most of all, she missed seeing Enjolras' face. It was slightly different with the child. She'd never seen Amelie's face before, but she could imagine it to look more like Enjolras than her. She could imagine her beautiful blue eyes, or tiny nose, and tiny hands. She could make up all of those things. But not for Enjolras. She knew what he looked like; she'd memorized it. But now, after all the months of never being graced with his face, she had begun to forget what he looked like. She could hardly remember what his face looked like when he laughed, or he was simply smiling. Or even when he was angry.

Éponine was worried she would forget it all soon.

In fact, she knew she would, which was what hurt the most.

Éponine swallowed away her tears, knowing that crying would solve nothing. She would just have to pretend for the rest of her days: pretend she could imagine her husband's face, pretend she was happy, pretend she was okay.

* * *

At the café, Enjolras was getting a much needed break. Combeferre had volunteered to do the speaking for that night, knowing how much Enjolras needed to just kick back and listen. It took awhile of convincing, but finally, Enjolras agreed and sat down.

The night was wasted away after Combeferre had finished his speech. The men spent more time talking about Enjolras' new offspring than they did anything else. It seemed everyone was elated for the young father, thankfully. Enjolras had been nervous that they would be stern, telling him he had to remain focused. And he was focused, now more than ever. He had a child to fight for now, a family. He drove his ambition even further.

Deep into the night, Enjolras finally decided it was time to get home. Éponine was probably worrying herself sick, and the baby was most likely in need of dire help. Enjolras stood up and clapped Combeferre's shoulder.

"I could not thank you enough for allowing me this night, _mon ami._"

Combeferre shrugged. "It was nothing! I know that you needed your rest."

"Why don't you come home to my house tonight? You live too far away and we can chat tomorrow; I have some ideas that need to be thought over and I would like to share them with you."

Combeferre thought about it for a moment and then nodded. "That doesn't sound like too bad of an idea."

Enjolras laughed heartily and clasped his friend's shoulder again. "Good! Good. Éponine will be glad to hear from you."

* * *

Éponine had finally maneuvered herself upstairs when she heard the front door open. She was exhausted and more than ready to go to bed, so she had picked the baby up, held her tightly to her chest, and made her way to the stairs, feeling her way with her hand. It had all gone very smoothly and Amelie was finally asleep in her bassinet.

When the front door opened, she groaned with relief. "Finally," she whispered. She quietly padded out into the hall and to the top of the staircase. She could hear Combeferre and Enjolras' voices mingling in the kitchen.

Wanting to surprise them both with her success of the night, Éponine took one step down the stairs and then immediately went tumbling down. Enjolras and 'Ferre had just stepped into the foyer when they saw her loose her balance.

The glass that had been in Enjolras' hand shattered against the floor as he darted forward and moved to the stairs as quickly as possible. But it was too late. Éponine was heading down at a rapid speed. Enjolras was there to lightly cushion her fall when she made it to the end of the stairs. She'd hit her head badly on the railing on the way town and her temple was bleeding slightly.

Enjolras shifted so her head was resting in his lap. Combeferre dropped to his knees beside the woman and gently dabbed at the wound on her forehead with a cloth. "I'll go get some water," he then whispered, hurrying off.

"Éponine?" Enjolras whispered. "Darling, please, wake up.." His hand cupped her cheek and he kept looking for signs of her eyes flitting about like she was alright, but they remained still. Anger flared up in his stomach and he swore. "I swear, Éponine, what did you think you were doing? You can't see, dammit!" he whispered angrily.

Combeferre came back with a warm bowl of soapy water and another white cloth. He dipped the edge into some water and washed the wound, pleased to see that all immediate bleeding had stopped. He sat back on his haunches and raised his eyebrows. "We wait now," he said, gently rubbing her ankle.

Enjolras stifled his sob and held his wife closer. "How could she have been so stupid?!"

"Enjolras, she was only trying-"

"I don't want to know what she was trying to do, 'Ferre! What if she dies? What am I going to do then?"

"She's not going to die."

"You don't know that.." Enjolras licked his lips and closed his eyes. "I can't loose her."

Combeferre remained quiet, not knowing what to say. His bit his lip and crossed his legs beneath him, waiting to see what happened. After several tense moments, Éponine moaned and turned, leaning into Enjolras' chest. The man jumped, seizing Éponine's shoulders.

"Éponine! Éponine!"

The woman groaned again and raised her hand to the bump on her head; Combeferre snatched her wrist and pulled it away. "Enjolras?" she mumbled, her eyes flitting open.

"Éponine, it's okay now. I'm-"

Éponine gasped loudly and sputtered something, but then stopped, taking Enjolras' hand. She closed her eyes and opened them again, raising his hand to her lips. Enjolras frowned.

"What is it? Are you hurt?!"

"No! _No!_" She laughed loud and clear, tipping her head back. "I can see!" She turned to face him, crying already. Her hands found the contours of his face and she kissed him hard and fast. "I can see," she whispered, this time quieter.

Enjolras was dumb-struck. "What? You – you can see?" She nodded, biting her lip. "How – how – What color shirt am I wearing?!"

Éponine laughed. "Cream."

Enjolras laughed once and then wrapped his arms around Éponine's neck, burrowing his face in her hair. Combeferre stood up quickly, crying too, and whispered something before charging up the stairs. Enjolras pulled away from his wife for a moment to croak, "Where are you going?"

"To get the baby!"

Éponine jumped away from Enjolras and wobbled slightly. Enjolras steadied her with his hands on her shoulders. "Take it easy there, Ép. I can't believe you can actually see again."

Éponine wiped at her cheeks. "Neither can I. It kind of hurts.."

"Then here, sit down." Enjolras guided her to the steps and she sat down slowly, clutching his hand.

"I just really want to see Amelie," she whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder, taking in all the colors and things she had taken for granted before, like the freckle on his hairline or the shine of the marble.

Enjolras chuckled and brushed her hair. "You will, you will. Don't be in such a rush."

Combeferre came back down the stairs after changing Amelie. Éponine stood up slowly this time and turned around, her arms outstretched. Combeferre placed the baby in her arms and immediately, she sank to the ground, overcome with joy and confusion and happiness. Enjolras sat beside her.

"Éponine, what is it?" he asked after she had been quiet for quite some time.

"She's... everything I imagined and more."

"She's perfect," Enjolras said, nodding.

"I can see," Éponine whispered then. "I can see."

* * *

_BAM! Tell me what you're thinkin', darlings!_


	25. It Passes Quickly

_**A/N: **__YOU GUYS! I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH! :D I wanted to explain in two ways how Éponine's vision came back: it will be explained in the chapter and at the end, if need be. Anyway, thank you all for the reviews. _

_This chapter is slightly OOC for Enjolras toward the middle (when he's speaking with his girly). But, it all makes sense with the story, I think. (Besides, as I told Brittany, Enjolras is OOC in some way in mostly every story.)_

_Oh yeah, and it's my birthday on Saturday, too! This week is good. _

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

* * *

_It Passes Quickly_

The first thing Enjolras and Éponine did the next morning was go to the doctor. In the December chill, they wrapped Amelie up tightly and set off on their way. Éponine could not stop staring at her child and at her husband. It was probably bordering on annoying for Enjolras (He would huff slightly when she looked up at him again after staring at Amelie), but she knew that somewhere in his heart he didn't mind.

They were still bewildered as to how this was even possible; but neither were complaining. Éponine had her sight back and that was all that mattered.

When they reached the square, Enjolras hopped out of the carriage, took the baby, and then extended his hand for her to take. She did so and they walked into the office.

The doctor explained to the couple that he had seen this before, in very rare cases. In Éponine's case, she had lost her sight from a jar to the head. When the barrel of the gun hit her head, the force was so great it knocked the sight right out of her. When she had tumbled down the stairs and hit her head on the post, it had sent the vision clear back in.

However it happened, they were all happy. They only hoped that it would last. The doctor had said it could leave again; he'd seen that happen, too. Éponine had said that her vision was slightly blurry, but the blurriness was going away. The doctor had advised that she just rest for now.

Éponine was happy to oblige by any rules that he set, just as long as she could see.

* * *

_Les Amis _were told that evening. Every one of them was knocked off their feet. They were beyond supportive and beyond ecstatic. It was also the evening they met Amelie. Jehan was the first to cry, Grantaire was the second.

In the end, mostly everyone had at least one tear or two in their eyes and Amelie had been passed to everyone, excpect Bossuet for fear that she would be dropped; besides he was _too _teary-eyed.

Things were returning to normal.

Things were right again.

* * *

A month passed. Amelie grew stronger every day. Soon she was smiling at her parents and cooing. Much to Enjolras' delight, she would immediately squirm and squeal when he walked into the room, much like she had when she was in Éponine's womb.

Soon, another month passed. Éponine felt as though time were flying by too fast. She'd only just gotten used to seeing her child, seeing everything again. It was overwhelming at first. Light was too bright; being in the dark was too much to handle. It took much patience on her own part and Enjolras' to get used to the sun and the candles. She'd been without those things for months; it wasn't just going to go back to normal that fast.

When Amelie was two and a half months, Enjolras made a decision. He brought it forward to Éponine one evening while they were sitting in the library.

"I think I'd like to become a teacher," he said, putting his paper down.

Éponine looked up from where she was sitting with Amelie on the floor. "A.. a teacher? Rogier, what about the rebellion?"

Enjolras leaned back in his chair and nodded. "Yes, well, I was thinking about that, too. We have much time before that is going to arrive."

Éponine shook her head and pulled the baby up into her arms, squinting her eyes slightly as lightening struck outside. "The rebellion controls your life; you wont have time for teaching."

"I can make time."

"Why do you suddenly want to do this?" she asked, standing up, bouncing Amelie on her hip. "Teaching has never interested you before."

"It's what I went to school for," he started, standing up, moving toward the window to watch the rain.

"You didn't finish school, Enjolras," Éponine countered.

"I know; I know.." He sighed; he turned around from the window, looking hopeful. "I could go back and finish."

"You never answered my question: why is this suddenly something you're wanting?"

Enjolras sighed. "I have no way to provide for you. These past months we've been living off of my parents and the little wedding money we received. Éponine, I _want _to provide for you both. How can I do that if all I'm doing is planning my-" He stopped short, but Éponine knew what he was going to say.

"You will not die. I won't allow it."

Enjolras chuckled ruefully; he'd missed her stubborness. "I know you won't, and you needn't worry." He moved over to her and put a hand on the back of her neck. "I will be fine. We have time yet."

"Not enough," she whispered. She then righted herself and nodded. "If you want to become a teacher, Rogier, then become a teacher."

"Really? Do you mean it?"

Éponine shrugged. "I guess. I only wonder how _Les Amis _are going to feel. They think that you are slipping, Enjolras."

"Yes. I suppose, in a way, I am." He ran a hand through his hair, looking away. He'd been less focused on his work as of late. The baby, his wife, were his main priorities. At first, this had thrown him off; he was so used to working non-stop that something other than the rebellion seemed foreign to him. But then it felt right again. He _should _be with his girls, after all.

"And how do you feel about that?" Éponine picked the baby rattle off the floor and handed it to Amelie, who immediately threw it back on the ground again, squealing with delight.

"I feel.. indifferent." He smiled sadly and reached out his hands for Amelie. Éponine handed her off with thanks. Enjolras put his forehead against Amelie's and whispered, "How's my Rosy Cheeks?" before looking back at Éponine. "I should be getting more excited; the day dawns closer and closer."

"But things are different now."

"Yes."

"Do not feel bad that you are slipping, Enjolras. I am going to tell it to you straight: I'm thankful that you are. As much as I admire your courage in this, you have us to think about now. Where would we go if we lost you, huh?" She smiled sadly and put a hand on his arm. "Before anything, those men are your friends. They will surely understand if you decide to become a teacher."

Enjolras nodded and put a soft kiss on Éponine's cheek. "I missed you."

Éponine laughed once. "I missed you."

* * *

That night, Enjolras _did _decide to tell the men that night. At first, like he expected, they were outraged; in fact, they stayed outraged for most of the night. Even Combeferre.

But Enjolras explained it to them the best that he could.

Raising his hands to silence the once-more yelling _Les Amis, _he shouted for them to be quiet and they finally simmered down. "Now, please, listen to me."

There were grumbles of disagreement and resentment, but it was good enough for Enjolras.

"None of you are in the situation that I now find myself in. I have a wife _and _a daughter that I need to think about. I am not saying that I am abandoning the cause; there is no way in hell that I would do that!" They cheered and Enjolras chuckled. "But – but, I need a steady way of income. That's why I think it's time that I take a small step back and go back to school to finish my degree. Combeferre, I hope, will be able to take my place for awhile. I will be around doing whatever I can. I still plan on going to the rallies and such. I'm only saying that I need to focus on.. home a little more."

Courfeyrac sighed heavily. "I think that we understand, Enjolras, but that does not mean that we aren't pissed off our rockers!"

Enjolras nodded. "I know, but you-"

Courfeyrac stood up and pointed a finger. "You're worse than Marius, who might I add, has not been present since Éponine lost her sight! You cannot end up like him!"

Enjolras stepped down from the dais and stalked over to Courferyac. "I _will not _end up like him, but don't you dare speak badly about Pontmercy! I am doing what I think is right for my family! I have a family now, Charles; I need to think about them before I think about all of you."

Courfeyrac groaned. "Oh, please, Enjolras! Spare defending Marius for another day. God knows you're disappointed in him, too! I'm talking about you." His pointer fingers jabbed into Enjolras' chest and the latter flared up, grabbing Courfeyrac by the scruff of his collar.

"You listen here," Enjolras growled, his voice low. "I don't know how you just took what I just told you, so I will tell you again: I have two people to provide for now. I didn't have that when this started. I had nothing. They are the most important things in my life as of this moment. And if that pisses you off, then it pisses you off. But if you are so damn offended by me taking a small step away from this, then you can just leave yourself." He pushed Courfeyrac away and the man stumbled back into his chair, his pride wounded and ego deflated.

Enjolras turned around, a vein in his forehead thumping. "And in case you didn't hear that, that goes for every one of you, too! This could dissolve right here, right now, and I would gladly walk away. So, what is it going to be?"

* * *

_This chapter is weird. It's like a filler, yet not. And we have some angry!Enjolras thrown in there for kicks. _

_And now it's medical time with Jess: _

_I know that some of you were wary about how I was going to pull this off or make it sound believable. I assure you, I am __**no **__doctor; I have no interest in it really at all. But, one time, I was watching Little House on the Prairie, the episode where Adam regained his sight. He had lost his sight in an explosion, resulting in head injury. When he was walking around in a store-room and tripped into explosive material, another explosion brought his sight back because of __**another **__head injury. Because everything needs to be correct, I looked it up to just make sure this was actually possible. And it is. _

_I found that "vision loss can be caused by damage to nerve fibers that carry vision signals to the eye after brain damage" ( ). Thus, you can go through therapy and such to regain it. But that all depends on the person. _

_Maybe it is a little far-fetched, but it is completely possible. Éponine_ _just happened to be one of those people who got her sight back from how she lost it. _

_This was totally longer than I expected, but I thought I should go into a little more detail than the chapter. Until next time!_

_Jess_

_**(PS I JUST REALISED THIS IS THE FIRST STORY I'VE WRITTEN WHERE ENJOLRAS AND ÉPONINE ARE TOGETHER WITH **__**THEIR**__** CHILD. WOW. I'M MEAN.)**_


	26. A Degree

_**A/N: **__Sorry this chapter took longer to get out. I had my birthday over the weekend and piano lessons and stuff to plan out! _

_Speaking of stuff to plan out: I have my next fic in the making. Yeah, yeah, I know, __**another one**__, but I just __need__ to write. I can't not write and this is where I do it. Anyway, details will be explained in the future. I hope some of you will want to read it, because I'm pretty excited. _

_**Disclaimer: I don't own crap.**_

* * *

_A Degree_

_Les Amis _were silent.

They had seen Enjolras this angry before. But it was always about something they deemed important: the poor, the hungry, France. They had never endured the wrath themselves – well, Grantaire had once before, but he didn't really count.

After Enjolras properly caught his breath, he took a step back, his eyes searching wildly around the room. He expected them to come to their senses, tell him he was making the right choice. But no one made a noise.

The door banged open and Marius stumbled in, a broad grin on his face. Courfeyrac cracked his knuckles and moved to stand up, but Bahorel put a calming hand on his shoulder. Marius, ever the confused, turned to Enjolras first.

"What is it? Why is everyone quiet?" he asked, laughing.

Enjolras rolled his neck, pulled his clenched fist back, and sent it directly into Marius' nose. He felt the bone crackle and a stream of blood pour forth from his own knuckle. Marius cursed loudly, falling back as he clutched his broken nose.

"Shit, Enjolras!" he cried, looking between his bloody hand and Enjolras. "What the hell was that for?!"

"Get out," Rogier growled, pointing toward the door from which he came.

"What?"

"You heard me. Get out of here."

Joly, a cloth already attached to his face, stood up from his chair and walked over to Marius, taking his friend's shoulder. He shot Enjolras a glare and took Marius through the door and out into safety. Enjolras turned and gave everyone a silent challenge; none stepped up to the plate.

Combeferre turned around from speaking with Jehan, nodding. He stood up and crossed the floor, stopping at the corner of the table closest to Enjolras. "Go home, Rogier," he said slowly. "You are.." He stopped himself. "Just go home."

Enjolras shook his head and grabbed his red jacket, storming out of the café without a glance backward. His walk home was spent wallowing in self-pity and anger. Those men were supposed to be his friends! Éponine was wrong when she had said that they would back him fully; what made her think that she knew anything about them?!

Enjolras snapped his jacket closer to his body, grumbling the whole way home. He didn't want to leave the rebellion, and he _wouldn't. _He _would _go back and finish his degree; he _would _fight like he had always planned. But things _would not _be the same.

When he pounded up his front steps and burst the door open, ripping his jacket off, he was a step above seething. It was still somewhat early in the evening. Though the sun had set, it was winter time and Éponine had only just eaten dinner. Enjolras could hear her cooing to Amelie in the dining room. Some of his anger subsided at her voice, but then flared back to life for no other given reason.

"Enjolras," he heard her say. "Is that you?"

He stalked into the dining room, grabbed a crystal glass from the stand, and poured a generous amount of wine into it. He hadn't taken a drink since before Éponine found out she was pregnant; he downed it without a second thought.

Éponine looked up from the new couch (they had done-away with the old one when it was blood soaking from childbirth) and frowned, a confused smirk on her face. "What is it?" she asked, bouncing Amelie in her arms.

Enjolras didn't answer, but poured himself another glass.

"Rogier-"

The glass slammed down onto the stand; Éponine flinched for the first time in at least a year. It was the first time she had felt afraid of her husband since she'd first encountered his anger. Even the baby quieted her tiny squeal of happiness.

"Haven't I asked you to never call me that?" Enjolras curled his hand around the glass again, looking away from her.

"You told me so at first, but then things changed." Éponine stood up slowly, clutching the child to her chest.

Enjolras rolled his eyes and sent a condescending glare Éponine's way. She visibly tensed and stood straighter, frowning deeply. "Things _always _change, Éponine."

"What are you saying?"

"Nothing." He smirked and poured another glass.

Éponine moved to the cradle Enjolras' mother had sent that was located in the corner; she put the baby down inside and stomped over to Enjolras, grabbing the cup from his hand. He frowned and reached for it, but she put it as far away from her as possible. He growled and grabbed her wrist and pulled. He attempted to grab the cup from her hand as she drew closer, but she stomped on his foot and threw the cup at the wall. It shattered and Éponine felt her chest heave with anger and confusion and so many other emotions.

Enjolras still had a pretty tight grip on her wrist. He pulled her in closer, so that their noses were nearly touching. Making sure to look her straight in the face, he grabbed her chin; not roughly, but enough so that she knew to not move.

Éponine swallowed. What the hell was wrong with him?! He had never been like this before!

"Don't cross me, Éponine," he whispered, sending a shiver of dread down her spine.

How many times had she heard those words before she was sold to him?

Éponine, using the adrenaline that came from fear, slapped him hard across the face with her free hand. Enjolras let go of her immediately and stumbled back, holding the pulsing flesh. He breathed deeply and looked around the room. He heard the crying baby and saw the shattered glass on the floor; most of all, he saw Éponine and the look of fear etched into her eyes.

"Oh – oh, Éponine, I.." Enjolras ran his hands down his face, his heart quivering with nerves. His muscles quaked. "I didn't mean to.. I'm sorry.." He reached out to take her hand, and she did not move, but he let his limb fall to his side, ashamed and tired.

Éponine kept her face hard as stone. "I think that you are mistaken, Enjolras."

He looked up from the ground, his shoulders slumped, the weight of the world pressing him down. "Excuse me?" he breathed. What was she going on about?

"Don't you _dare _cross me."

* * *

The next few days passed slowly and quietly. Enjolras hadn't been back to another meeting since he stormed out. He was nervous about what the men might do _if _he did show up, and he was still angry with them; but he was more angry with himself.

The days passed just as quietly with Éponine. Enjolras felt horrible for even daring to touch her in a way that was _not _loving, so he kept his distance: holing himself up in his library and eating at times just after she did. He even went so far as to sleeping in another room. What bothered him most was that Éponine didn't even seem to mind. Whenever they did pass in the hall, she would glare at him and then walk away, her head held high.

On one hand, Enjolras was eager for them to get back on the same page. After her sight returned, he wanted to spend every moment with her to make up for their lost ones. But on the other hand, he was happy to see her defiance back.

On the third day of seemingly everyone's silence, Enjolras got up from his chair in the library and took the end of the pencil out of his mouth. He check his pocket watch and then grabbed his coat, shrugging it on.

He had a meeting with the dean at the university. Ever since Éponine had gone blind, and Amelie was born, Enjolras had completely disregarded his classes. Totally. He was intent on going back and fixing that somehow. After all, it was his last year.

The hallway was deserted, like he hoped. Enjolras could hear Vipond banging around in the kitchen, and Éponine speaking with her new friend, Victoria, who had recently had her own first child, Claude. He rushed down the steps, making sure not to look into the sitting room where both women had stopped talking; he could feel their eyes on his back.

And with that, he opened the door and was off.

* * *

The door closed considerably harder than it needed to. Éponine closed her eyes and bit her lip. Victoria jumped and looked at Éponine with concern and confusion.

"Is everything all right?" Claude, a few months older than Amelie, gurgled in his mother's lap.

Éponine scoffed and brushed her finger across Amelie's cheek. "Yes, and no." She smiled sadly at her friend.

Victoria was an English woman who had moved to the area several months before with her brother; her husband had died three years previously in a carriage accident and the baby was the offspring of a terrible mistake that had happened on an evening of dire loneliness. Since then, her child had been born and she'd hardly been able to get out of the house. She lived but three houses away and when Éponine had finally met the young woman, they had struck up a quick friendship. Éponine even had a little idea in her mind that would come to pass if Enjolras ever patched things up with the _Amis. _

"What is it?" Victoria had not yet really met Enjolras; not in the way she should. When Éponine first met her friend, it was the day after her rift with her husband. Enjolras was cordial when he met the young woman in passing, but nothing more.

"The day before we met, the two of us had a small.. argument."

Victoria raised her eyebrows. "Arnold and I used to fight like that sometimes. It would be over the smallest things, but we wouldn't talk for days." She let go of a forlorn sigh and Éponine patted the woman's knee.

"The pain will go away eventually," Éponine tried.

Victoria shrugged and kissed the top of her son's head. "I don't really want to talk about sad things right now."

Éponine smiled. "Neither do I. Would you like to go into town?" Éponine asked, her eyes twinkling.

Victoria laughed hollowly. "What?!"

"You haven't been out in ages. It's not too cold."

Victoria sighed and nodded. "I suppose fresh air couldn't hurt anyone.."

"That's the spirit!"

* * *

_Damn Enjolras_, Éponine thought as she and Victoria made their way around into town. If Éponine wanted to speed up the process of her plan a little bit, then so be it. She held Amelie a little tighter as she pushed open the door to the café. Victoria looked at her skeptically and then went in, waiting for Éponine to follow.

Éponine waved to the man at the counter and asked for a bottle of milk for her daughter. Victoria asked for the same for her son, except warm. When their orders were handed to them, Éponine led Victoria to the back room.

Mentally crossing her fingers, she opened the door and thanked heaven he was there.

Courfeyrac looked up from a thick book on the table. He glanced at Éponine and smiled tightly, then looked at Victoria and stood up quickly. Éponine grinned and said, "Courfeyrac, I'd like for you to meet my friend, Victoria. Victoria, this is Charles Courfeyrac."

Victoria smiled, her eyes not wavering from Courfeyrac's face. "_Bonjour_," she whispered. He nodded back, mouth slightly agape.

"Well," Éponine said, pleased with herself. "I'll leave you two to get to know each other." Victoria whirled around and stared at Éponine with a pleading look; Éponine ignored it. "Enjolras should be getting home soon."

Courfeyrac swallowed and breathed a little deeper. "_Madame, _why don't-"

Victoria shook her head. "Not _madame_, not anymore." She bit her lip and hoisted Claude a little higher.

Courfeyrac rubbed his hands on his pants and looked away, hiding his smile. "Why don't you sit down, _mademoiselle_?"

"Gladly." Victoria turned around and stepped closer to Éponine. "You are conniving; I don't know what you're trying to do here.."

"I think you know." Éponine smirked and stepped back. "I'll see you soon, Victoria. Don't get too riled up, now.." She winked and left quickly, her plan in action.

* * *

Éponine flew down the hall, her red skirt flying behind her. Amelie was successfully asleep and Éponine had heard the front door open and Vipond greet her husband. She was so excited about the possible connection between Victoria and Courfeyrac that she completely forgot about their rift.

Slowing when she reached his cracked library door, Éponine grinned widely. She then pushed the door open and stepped inside. Enjolras turned around from his bookcase and stared at her with an empty look.

"Yes?" he said, expecting her to bring up their earlier fight.

"I think I may have given Courfeyrac a possible wife."

The book dropped out of Enjolras' hand. "What?!"

Éponine giggled and covered her hand with her mouth. "I know!"

* * *

_Okay. So, this chapter – once again – went in a completely different direction than I thought it would. The more and more I write this story, the more it looks like the revolution may or may not happen. I don't know; I'm very torn. _

_Feedback on that would be much appreciated!_


	27. A Little Romance

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

* * *

_A Little Romance_

Courfeyrac was in love.

Victoria was pretty sure she was in love, too.

It only took them that afternoon and soon, they were hooked on one another. Victoria couldn't get enough of Courfeyrac's quick and witty banter, or his constantly smiling face. Courfeyrac couldn't possibly live without Victoria's chestnut waves or the light dusting of freckles that crossed her nose.

They had only known each other for a few weeks when Courfeyrac asked Victoria a question that nearly sent her spilling onto the floor: "Let me move in you with you?"

Victoria spun around from the seat she was sitting on, writing a letter to her mother. "Excuse me?"

Courf laughed and stood up from the small couch, going to put his hands on her shoulder. He bent down and pressed a soft kiss to the curve of her neck. "Victor, please." He fingered a strand of her hair and then bent down on his knees beside the desk.

Victoria sighed and set her pen down, turning to face him. "'Fey, we – we hardly know each other."

Courf scoffed. "Lies! I know that you like to put too much sugar on your grapefruit and when you try to scoop out the fruit you get discouraged because it's too difficult. I know that you smell like roses because you put the petals in your bath. And you hate it when Claude sleeps too late because then he won't nap. And I know that you're kind, and you love your son, and you love your husband.." He sighed. "Victoria, this is weird for me, too."

Victoria blinked a few times. "Is this too fast? You just.. came in and swept everything up and it's all a little unnerving." She stood up and crossed the floor to the window, hooking her arms around herself.

Courfeyrac stood up, his curls bobbing as he shook his head. "I am going to be painfully honest with you: all I've ever known is a different girl every night." Victoria hung her head, but he shouldered on. "I've never cared for someone more than I have for you. I know this is all very fast, maybe it happens like this often and we're not the only ones, but.. now I have something to.. fight for."

Victoria turned around from the window, opening her mouth to reply, when Courfeyrac gasped loudly and stumbled back into the couch. The woman fled across the room and dropped to her knees in front of him, taking his shaking hands.

"Courfeyrac! What is it? Tell me, darling!"

He sat forward and cradled his head in his hands. "I was wrong; I was so wrong," he mumbled, repeating himself over and over.

"What – what were you wrong about?" Victoria prayed he didn't mean her.

Suddenly, Courfeyrac was up and headed for the door, Victoria close behind him. "I have to go," he explained quickly, grabbing his coat.

Victoria's hand reached for his and grabbed tightly. "What is it?"

Courfeyrac kissed her forehead and rushed out the door. "I'll explain later!"

* * *

Enjolras was in the middle of a heated debate with his wife when the back door burst open and a sweaty Courfeyrac stumbled in, gasping loudly for air. Éponine stopped speaking mid-sentence and rushed over to his side, pulling out a chair from the dining table so he could sit. Vipond brought in a glass of water with shaking hands and set it before the young man, who gulped it down quickly.

Enjolras, all the while, stood firm in his spot, his arms crossed at his chest.

When Courf had regained his breath, he breathed in a deep breath and sat back in the chair, smiling. "Thank you, Éponine," he said, his breathing still a little labored.

Éponine nodded and took a step back from the chair, her hands in front of her. She glanced a couple of times between the two men in the room and decided it was best she took her leave. Quickly and quietly, she gathered Amelie from the crib in the corner and left the room.

The door shut firmly and Enjolras raised his eyebrows. "Well.."

Courfeyrac stood up and moved away from the table. "I have come to make amends."

Enjolras crossed his arms tighter. "Make amends?"

"Yes, I wanted to apologize for the other night at the meeting. It was completely wrong of me to say what I did."

"And why is this all coming to light now?" Enjolras lifted his head higher, waiting. Courfeyrac shuffled, wringing his hands together.

"You see, Éponine.. She brought her friend, Victor – I mean, Victoria, to the café while I was drawing a paper up. We.. we got on very well and-" He stood straighter and nodded. "I am going to ask her to marry me – soon. She has a son from her first marriage, Claude. I – I don't know it's hard for me to explain. I just wanted to say that.. Now, I know what you meant.."

Enjolras scoffed, unfolded his arms, and poured a glass of wine. "Do you?"

"Yes. That is, I think so. You said that you now had something to fight for. I understand how that feels."

Enjolras highly doubted that someone as flighty as Courfeyrac understood what he had said. He hardly thought that this woman he'd attached himself to was anything more than a widow trying to swindle the poor boy out of some money. But still, it took courage for him to come and apologize; Enjolras admired that at the most.

"I accept your apology, Courfeyrac. I only hope that this.. stint.. with Victoria proves to be acceptable for you."

Courfeyrac furrowed his brow, but nodded. "Thank you, Enjolras." He backed up to the door. "We'll see you again soon?" Enjolras pushed his finger around the rim of the glass he was holding; he nodded. "Good."

When the door had closed, Enjolras let out a groan. "Éponine!" he bellowed, setting the glass down harder than he should have. His wife peeked her head into the room, blushing.

"Yes?" she asked, playing innocent.

Enjolras jerked his head, motioning for her to come in. She stepped in on light toes, a small smile on her face. "What in heaven's name did you do?"

"I don't know what you're talking about.." She ran her hand over the back of a chair, raising her eyebrows.

"Of course you do!" Enjolras sighed. "Éponine, I don't mind if you tried to set up Charles with Victoria. But if you did it so things could smooth over, that I don't appreciate."

Éponine shrugged and looked up. "Oh, come off it, Enj! You know you were getting bored around here without going to the meetings. Classes don't start until next month and it didn't seem like anyone was going to come over and apologize anytime soon. I did what I had to do to speed the process up a little."

Enjolras smirked. "I suppose it doesn't do too much harm."

"Exactly!" She smiled. "Really, it won't be an issue. Now he gets it, right?"

He nodded. "Yes. I think so.." Enjolras took Éponine's shoulders in his hands. "I love you, you know that?"

"I know," she whispered.

"I'm sorry for being so angry and rough with you. It was never my intention to hurt you."

Éponine shivered at the memory. _He's capable of being terrible. _"I forgive you."

Enjolras kissed his wife softly and then held her close. "Thank you."

* * *

Courfeyrac felt like he was running all over Paris. First, he'd gone to Victoria's house, then to Enjolras', now back to Victoria's. It was driving him crazy; he didn't need _this much _exercise.

He trudged up the front steps and knocked on her door twice. It was opened with a flourish and Victoria stood behind it, laughing at the sight of Courf. She took his shoulders and led him into the kitchen, where she gave him a plate of lunch.

He ate it quickly, famished. Claude sat beside him in a high-chair, squealing with delight. Courfeyrac smirked at the child. He finished in record time and wiped his chin free of any watermelon juice before sitting back.

Victoria smiled and set the plate into the sink. "Now, tell me, why did you leave in such a rush earlier?" She set her elbows on the counter and put her head in her hands.

Courfeyrac ran his hand over Claude's hair; it was black, like his own. "I had a sort of.. epiphany."

"Did you?"

"A couple of weeks ago, at one of the meetings, I said some things to a friend that I shouldn't have. They were about him stepping away from the rebellion because of his wife and child. I didn't know what that felt like, but now.."

Victoria inched closer. "But now what?"

"The point of this is," Courfeyrac stood up from the chair and came around the counter to take Victoria's hand. "I am in love with you." He laughed loudly at her shocked face and took her cheek in his palm. "I love you _so much_."

Victoria huffed in an unladylike fashion. "Do you?"

Courfeyrac grinned. "Yes, I do."

"And that is why you want to move in?" She raised her eyebrow. "Because you love me." He nodded. "What about Claude?"

"What about him?" Courfeyrac put his hands on Victoria's shoulders and turned his head to the side.

"He's not your son."

"Why should he have to be? I love him just the same." He put his forehead on hers and Victoria laughed, fingering a pattern on his sleeve.

"And you're willing to take care of the both of us?"

"Most certainly."

Victoria nodded then. "Well, fine then, Charles Courfeyrac. I love you, too, and you can move in whenever you please!" She laughed and he scooped her up into hug, lifting her feet from the floor.

He set her back on the floor, gave her a solid kiss, and then whispered, "You won't regret this, Victor. I promise I'll take care of you both."

* * *

Later that evening, Enjolras had Éponine cradled against his chest. Her fingers drew idle patterns on his skin while he continued to flip through a new school book, hoping to get ahead of schedule before classes started.

"Do you think Courf is really in love?" she asked quietly, trying not to wake the sleeping baby in the crib by the window.

"Maybe.. Didn't you want this happen? It was your idea."

"I didn't anticipate that it would happen so fast."

"We fell in love pretty fast," Enjolras noted.

"But we had lived together for months on end before that."

"This is true."

Éponine cleared her throat and moved away from Enjolras, sitting up on her own side of the bed. She pulled her book from off the side-table and cracked it open. "I think it will benefit them both."

Enjolras was silent for a moment. "Me, too."

"She's a nice girl."

"Mhmm.." He wrote something down in a notebook beside him.

"She's very pretty," Éponine said, smirking.

"Certainly."

Éponine looked up and narrowed her eyes. "I'm pregnant."

He was silent and then, "Yes, dear." Éponine cocked her head to the side and waited three seconds before he threw the book down on his lap and turned to face his wife, a look of confusion all over face. "You're – you're pregnant?" he choked.

Éponine laughed. "No. Of course not. You just weren't listening, so I was testing you." She winked and leaned across the empty space in the bed and kissed his cheek. "Goodnight, Enjolras."

She flipped over and blew out the light. Enjolras frowned at his wife's back and then turned back to his books. He had a long week ahead of him: more than enough studying, several meetings to make up, plus Amelie had developed a tiny cold and Éponine was more than freaking out. He knew everything would be fine; it was the dead of winter; these things happened.

Enjolras sighed and rubbed his tired eyes, setting his books down. He should grant himself some rest, too. So, he put out the light by his side as well, and hunkered down in bed, throwing his arm over Éponine's waist and pulling her close.

Just as he was about to fall into a deep sleep, Amelie woke with a loud cry and both parents groaned loudly. Éponine slapped Enjolras' shoulder.

"It's your turn."

Enjolras sighed and slid out of bed. Yes, a long week indeed.

* * *

_I really do apologize for this chapter being so late. I was going to update and then I started catching up on the last season of 'Merlin.' I guess I should say get used to updates being later than usual. School starts next Monday and then 'Sherk: The Musical' begins sometime in early September. I will not be leaving any of my stories; things will just not be updated as frequently._


	28. Spring

_**A/N: **__Alright, kids, I've made a wee bit of a decision. School started on the 26__th__ and so far I've been swamped. Between AP Euro, French 3, the fall musical coming up next week, and life, I haven't had any time for writing. And I mean any time; and this sucks. I try and try to tell myself that I'm going to write and then I get stuck reading more about The Hundred Years War than I care to know about (Just kidding. I love history so much!). _

_This is why I have decided to put myself on hiatus until September 12__th__. Yes, I am disappointed, too. But this chapter is crap and I don't want to give that to you just because I feel rushed. I want to give you goodness. During this time of hiatus, I __**will **__be writing ahead like I used to, so when I come back I will – hopefully – have this story done! Thank you all so very, very much for being patient with me. (Who knows? I might be back before the date even comes up.) _

_I will see you lot in September!_

_Love lots, Jess._

_**Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. All rights go to their rightful owners.**_

* * *

_Spring_

Spring came and so did a wedding.

With Enjolras' classes going extremely well at the university, and Éponine's full-time job of taking care of Amelie, there was little time to deal with Courfeyrac and his Victoria. They had moved in together, as expected, and Victoria had soon found herself to be pregnant. While the other _Amis _were both shocked by the sudden news and slightly angered, Enjolras and Éponine were less shocked by it. They silently stood when _Les Amis_ betrayed him one evening and they let Coufeyrac understand what he had done to Enjolras. Later in the evening, after he had taken a walk to let out some of his steam, he had apologized to Enjolras again, who readily accepted, knowing this time, it was genuinely out of understanding.

On a warm day in April, the Enjolras family gathered with their friends in the backyard of Enjolras' parents house. The son and father had patched up their relationship as best they could, considering; things were certainly strained, it was obvious when they were in the same room. But this was not about Enjolars nor his father. This was about Charles Courfeyrac and his soon-to-be wife, Victoria Kleys.

The gazebo in the backyard had been transformed into the alter space and Jehan was currently weaving sunflowers and daises onto the side posts. Clemence had come in with Simon and she and Éponine were both with Victoria inside, getting her ready for event. Enjolras, like usual, was standing tall and off by himself, showing Amelie a bird's nest hidden within the branches of a tree.

Combeferre wandered over to his friend. He put a gentle hand on his shoulder; Enjolras turned his head and raised his eyebrows. "Alexander," he said, turning back to the bird's nest.

"Are you excited for the nuptials?" Combeferre motioned for the baby and Enjolras passed her off, taking this time to get the feeling back in his arms. Combeferre blew a bubble on Amelie's cheek and she squealed, latching her hands onto his nose. Enjolras smiled; his daughter was his heart and soul. Well, besides the people, as well. And of course Éponine.

He shrugged and pulled a portion of greenery off the tree. "If I do recall correctly, there was a wedding here sometimes ago," Combeferre continued.

Enjolras scoffed. "Yes. A year or so ago; or two. I've lost track of the months."

"Most men forget."

"I'm not most men."

Combeferre laughed and handed the child back to Enjolras. "I must agree."

"Do you think this is too rash for him?" Enjolras nodded his head toward the alter, where Coufeyrac was pacing, Jehan trying desperately to calm him down.

"Maybe, but good things will come of it, God willing. How are your classes going?"

"Fairly well. They are not as rigorous as I am used to, but that seems to be a good thing. I have more time once I get home."

Combeferre smiled. "And will you have a teaching position after this ordeal?"

"Most likely. Farther into the north, though; or south. Wherever they need me, I will go."

"I'm happy for you, Rogier. Truly."

* * *

Clemence thrived on weddings. She breathed weddings. At home, in Germany, she was just beginning to learn the language, so there was a barrier between her and the other women. But when wedding season rolled around, she helped with any and every wedding that appeared.

Currently, she was flying around the sitting room which had been transformed into Victoria's "waiting room." Éponine, on the other hand, could hardly care less about weddings. A bad taste had been left in her mouth since her own, and other people's weddings hardly mattered to her, no matter who they were.

Victoria was a pile of nerves. While Clemence went about tying flowers into the crown of Victoria's hair, the poor girl chattered on and on about the ceremony and about how her parents weren't there. Éponine was standing in the corner, fingering a plant when Victoria dropped the hand-held looking glass onto the floor and it shattered into tiny pieces.

She cried out and went to pick up the pieces, but Clemence held her back. Éponine sighed and cleaned it up herself, mumbling, "Seven years of bad luck for you."

She then, knowing that she had no place in helping the bride get ready, headed out of doors. The assortment of men outside jumped to attention at any sight of movement from the backdoor, but they soon sighed and went back to work, realizing it to be just a false alarm. Éponine rolled her eyes and went across the lawn, heading for her husband, who was coming toward her. They met in the middle and he handed off the child, who was becoming tired rather quickly.

Éponine took her daughter and sighed loudly. "Are you ready?"

"I am," Enjolras replied. "I'm not sure he is." He jabbed a thumb at Coufeyrac.

Éponine laughed. "It will be awhile yet. She's still fretting about her hair and.. face. I don't know. Have you been of any help?"

"None what-so-ever." He smiled proudly. "I just get in the way."

"I find that, too." Éponine looked at the grass and poked at a bug with her bare toe.

"Are you alright, Éponine?" he asked gently, taking her chin in his fingers, forcing her to look up.

Éponine tore her chin away and Enjolras flinched. "I'm fine." She narrowed her eyes and hoisted Amelie a little higher. She headed off for the gazebo, but Enjolras hastened after her, his heart rate a little higher.

"Éponine, really, what is it?"

Éponine turned around, frowning deeply. "_Nothing, Enjolras._"

He took a step-back, now frowning as deeply as she. "Fine then. Hand me Amelie, please."

Éponine held her baby tighter. "Why?"

"She's tired." Enjolras rolled his eyes. "Just give her to me. It will be much easier for us both if she is asleep during this going-ons."

Éponine lifted her chin. "I'll put her down."

"Wonderful." He smiled sickeningly, for the men were starting to mill about closer and closer to them and he wouldn't want to make them suspect anything. But something was wrong with Éponine and he had a right to now, so he would drag it out of her if he could. "I'll help you."

* * *

Éponine slammed the door behind her and turned around, facing Enjolras, her hands on her hips. "Would you stop trying to fix everything?!"

"I only care about you! I want to know what is wrong so I can help you feel better!" he yelled back, his face red.

"I don't want you to make me feel better, Enjolras!" Éponine brought her tiny fist down onto his shoulder, grinding her teeth; he hardly budged. "I want to wallow in my own self-pity!"

Enjolras groaned and grabbed her shoulders, stopping her fists from pounding down onto him. "Stop, Éponine; just stop." His voice was calm and steady, much unlike her. She finally stopped her fit and then huffed, blowing the hair away from her face. "Now tell me – calmly – what is wrong."

Éponine wrinkled her nose. "We didn't have a wedding."

Enjolras barked out his laughter, making her angry once more. She twisted and pulled away from him, and in his laughter, he lost his grip. She fled to the other side of the bed, distancing them. He breathed deeply, still laughing slightly, and went beside her.

"I'm sorry, Éponine; I'm sorry." He cleared his throat. "We did have a wedding, my love. An unforgettable one."

"Not a real one," she snapped. "Not one out of love."

Enjolras paused. "Oh.. Is that what this is about? Coufeyrac and Victoria?" She nodded weakly. "I'm sorry that you didn't get that."

She shrugged. "I only wish things would have been different then."

"Why? Don't you like surprises?" He chuckled and elbowed her side.

Éponine smiled faintly and held the spot that he had nudged. "I do, yes."

"Then stop complaining." He stood up. "We're happy now. And we love each other now, yes?"

"Yes."

"Then try and be happy for others, too." He held out his hand to her and she took it.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, leaning into his shoulder as they walked back outside.

"I don't mind," he lied. "Whatever it takes to make you happy."

"You're just saying that," she said, smiling up at him.

"Yes." He laughed. "But it is slightly true. I would do anything for you, Éponine."

_Would you give up the rebellion for me? _"I am flattered." She laughed. "Enjolras, promise me you won't make any dumb decisions in the next few months?!"

"Me?" He scoffed. "Dumb choices?! Like what?"

"Promise you won't.. leave and never return?"

Enjolras looked away and took his hand away from hers. "I cannot promise that."

She closed her eyes in pain. "I know.. I just wanted to ask."

* * *

Weeks later, it happened. Four weeks to be exact.

The revolution began.

Éponine could still remember what it felt like when he galloped away on his horse, even after all this time. She could still smell the rain in the air from the night before. She could still hear all the people gathering in the town.

But she wouldn't go. She refused to. Victoria had holed herself up when she realized that Coufeyrac could possibly die; Éponine wasn't able to get even so much as a grunt out of her.

Éponine had begged and begged Enjolras to stay. She nearly got on her knees and clutched him until he agreed, but she knew this meant a lot to him. She knew this was all that he had worked for; she couldn't tear it from beneath his feet.

When he had kissed her for a final time and then kissed the baby, she had cried. She had told herself she would not; she didn't want him to remember her with tears. But she couldn't hold it in. He had then turned and rushed from the house to the gravel drive where Combeferre and a solemn Courfeyrac were waiting.

And as he rode off, his red jacket looking much like fire, Éponine couldn't help but remember the first time she had seen the jacket draped across a couch It made her cry all the harder.

She didn't think she would ever see it again.

Little did she know that she would; just.. not in the way she hoped.


	29. The Jacket

_**A/N: **__I returned after a short little spurt. That didn't last as long as I thought it would, but I got a good enough amount done that I think I'm fine._

_After I got some strong (and rather feisty) pleas for Enjolras' life, I changed my original ending. Totally kidding. I didn't change my original ending. (insert evil laugh because you don't know whether it's a sad or happy ending.)_

_The story is nearly finished; this chapter, one more, and then the epilogue. Enjoy!_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.**_

* * *

_The Jacket_

Three days had past and still no word from Enjolras.

Éponine was starting to get worried.

At first, she thought about going after him. There was no way she was just going to let the man she had fought for die; not without putting up her own fight, or at least dying beside him. But as she thought about it more and more, the more and more the idea sounded terrible.

She had Amelie to think about now. And Victoria and Claude. Victoria had come to the house two days after Enjolras first left. She was frantic, like Éponine was trying to hide herself. So, Éponine invited her in and she had stayed.

Now, Victoria was finally resting, as was Amelie. Éponine picked up Claude from the quilt in the center of the room and went into the kitchen. She quickly explained the situation to Vipond and he took charge of Claude.

Éponine was going to those barricades. Even if it was the last thing she would ever do.

* * *

He was disoriented, dizzingly so. The world was spinning and bile continued to rise in his throat, but he refused to let it come up. Everything burned: his eyes, his head, his legs.

Enjolras could hardly remember anything. Something things stuck out in his mind: the gun fire that sounded like hail, the blood that splattered onto the side of his face and neck, the unforgettable screams.

Somehow, dear God, he'd gotten out. He'd lost his jacket in the process, he'd lost everything that he stood for, all of his friends. As far as he knew, he was the only one left. He had a vague memory of someone pulling his shoulders back too far when he was on the lower floor, then everything went blank and he had woken up by the side of a small stream outside of the city. His wounds were bandaged up and his chest hurt greatly.

He'd stood up and meandered toward the city, passing many-a-people chattering about the pasts days' events. They had stared at him for fleeting seconds, confused by the blood and the hunched position he took, but he would not be deterred. He had to get home.

So, he kept wandering and wandering until he stumbled upon the remains of the café.

Blinking in the early sunlight of the day, Enjolras shielded his eyes. He could barely make out the words _Le Musain _anymore. Everything was covered in blood and was now falling apart. The bodies had been removed and the river of blood he slightly remembered stumbling through had been mopped up.

He walked up to the front entrance and realized there was no longer a door, so he stepped over the threshold and sniffed once or twice. He hoped no National Guardsmen were on the prowl for him, but he knew they were; they wouldn't have found a body and he was the leader. They wanted _him _more than anyone.

He couldn't stay long.

Not that he wanted to.

It hurt too much. It was all his fault: their deaths. But who had died – really? He could remember Jehan dying on the other side of the barricades, alone.

And Feuilly, stabbed right on the barricade.

And Bahorel, Bossuet, with each other like it should be.

_Marius. _Marius had died right beside him; a bullet through his forehead.

Enjolras had lost track of Combeferre in all the haze and smoke, as had he lost sight of Joly. Courfeyrac seemed to stay by his side the whole time. That was until.. Until it had all gone dark.

Enjolras stumbled back, hitting the wall behind him, clutching his forehead. _No, no, no, no! Courfeyrac; that's who had done it!_

* * *

_Courfeyrac wasn't really thinking about much of anything at the moment. He was caught up in all the buzz of the fighting. It was slightly morbid, really. He felt a rush when he caught his first officer and an even bigger one with the next. _

_But when they crossed the barricade, and with each step they took, he was pushed farther and farther back, the adrenaline began to turn into dread. He knew what was coming; there was no way to fight it. _

_Suddenly, he regretted everything. He regretted marrying Victoria, being the cause of her new child, he even regretted _Les Amis. _He should have just listened to his mother and become a banker, like she wished. But then that faded away and turned right back into devotion and love._

_As the bullets flew past his head, and the men beside him continued to fall, he saw a flash of red and blond in the corner of his eye. Enjolras. The men were closing in on him, too, and he only had a limited supply of ammo and empty wine bottles. _

_So, Courfeyrac, on a stroke of genius, devotion, and courage, did something he would have never done if it was for anyone else. While the National Guard was distracted with killing off yet another of his friends, Courfeyrac jumped behind Enjolras and tore off his coat. The man turned around, confused. But Courfeyrac was already shrugging the coat on; Enjolras protested greatly, but it was like cotton in Courf's ears. He took Rogier's elbow and dragged him roughly through a hidden door that led to a small cupboard. Pulling a bottle out of his back pocket, running out of time, he bashed it over Enjolras' head. _

_The other man slumped down onto his haunches, his head lolled to the side. _

"_Thank you, _mon ami_," Courfeyrac whispered, turning around to face the foes._

_The National Guardsmen stared at him, slightly confused; he didn't really resemble what they thought the leader looked like five minutes ago, but in all the commotion, they could have gotten his looks wrong. Still, they had him, the leader, in their grasp. They did the most natural thing then: they shot him, right through the heart. _

* * *

Enjolras wiped a tear from his cheek. Why in all of heaven and hell did Charles Courfeyrac sacrifice himself for him?!

The first thing he thought to do when he remembered was scream; but surely someone would hear. He stood up slowly, rubbing his chin, as the tears poured down his face. He gasped for air and tried to make sense of it all, but nothing would come clear. Just as he stumbled to the door and fell to his knees, a pair of shoes fell into his line of sight, then a set of knees. Hands cupped his face and pulled them up to look into his eyes.

"Enjolras?" Éponine whispered, running her hand over his sweaty, blood stained forehead. "Rogier, what on earth.."

Enjolras wrapped his arms around her middle and buried his head in her stomach, his shoulders shaking from the sobs. Éponine felt an immense sense of serenity at the sight, though. He was okay, he was safe, he was _alive. _She breathed a large sigh of relief and let him cry; it would be cruel if she did anything else.

The café, as she took a glance, was so different then from when she had last visited. Of course, the windows were shattered and the door was knocked down, as were the stairs, but it more than looked different: it _felt _different.

Men – her friends – had died there. Enjolras had nearly died there.

They needed to get out of there!

Éponine didn't think any of the National Guard would be coming back to the site, but apparently she had been wrong. She could hear heavy footsteps and whispers behind her, so quickly, she pulled Enjolras' head up and wiped away the tear stains, putting a finger on his lips to muffle the unintelligible noises coming from them.

"Hush," she whispered, then planted a kiss on his forehead; she turned around and faced the men behind her.

They stared at her, confused and slightly angry. "_Madame, _you cannot be here."

She nodded and stood, quickly jerking Enjolras up beside her. He seemed to be getting a grip on reality; he wasn't babbling anymore and he only stared venomously at the National Guards. Éponine kept her hand firm on his.

"What is the problem, _monsieur_?"

"Don't you know?" Éponine stared, her eyes empty and waiting. The man in uniform sighed. "This place is condemned, under investigation."

"Why?" She turned her head to the side, further infuriating the man. But she was trying to buy time: Enjolras continued to grow more tense with each moment and she both wanted him to get out of there and just give him a moment to breathe.

"The revolution that took place a few days ago. A few men are still at large; it is not safe here, _madame._"

Éponine felt her husband take a step forward. She countered with a step to the side, slightly in front of him. "A – a few men?" She swallowed. "Like who?"

One of the Guards rubbed his forehead. "We are not sure, _madame. _But, I must ask you leave once again."

Éponine nodded and took one last look around the café. She tugged on Enjolras' hand and whispered, "Let's go, _amour._"

They then left _Le Musian _for the last time, the broken leader right under the nose of the Guard.

* * *

They arrived home, Enjolras half draped over Éponine. She called out for Vipond – anyone really – and the elderly man came around the corner, quickly, taking Enjolras from Éponine. She wiped her nose and eyes and breathed deeply.

_He was safe; he was safe; he was safe. _

Upstairs, she heard a door open and Victoria rush to the top of the stairs. She looked at Éponine expectantly, but Éponine could only frown slightly and shrug before following Vipond into the kitchen. There, she found him trying to coax Enjolras into eating a little bit of soup, but the man was too busy cradling his head in his hands, groaning slightly. She thanked Vipond quietly and then took a washcloth from nearby and drenched it with warm water.

Éponine stood beside her husband. "Enjolras?" she whispered, touching the back of his neck. He looked up slowly. "What happened?" She began to wipe the blood from his face and neck.

Finally, after a few moments, he leaned back and ran a hand over his fresh face. "I got away," he said hoarsely. "I got away – scotch free – and they all died."

"Not all of them," Éponine reassured, frowning. "Didn't you hear the Guards? Some of them are still out there."

He shrugged and sniffed. "Maybe."

Éponine decided not to push that subject any further; he was already hurting enough. "I'm so glad you're safe."

He gave her a half-smile and pulled her in for a soft kiss. He laughed coldly. "Me, too, I suppose."

"But how did you get away?" she whispered against his lips.

Enjolras kissed her again. "Courfeyrac. He saved me."

A plate crashed behind them and both jumped and turned to look at the doorway. Éponine bit her lip and Enjolras groaned. "Victoria.."

"Charles.. What do you mean, he saved you?"

Enjolras stood up slowly, his legs shaking. "He.. He took my coat from me while we were inside the café and then he shoved me into a closet. He saved my life; I don't know why, but he did. He died shortly after. I am so sorry, Victoria."

She sneered. "Sorry! Don't tell me you're sorry! This is your fault. He – he would have been alive if, you hadn't-"

Éponine stepped forward and frowned. "You can leave now, Victoria. Go." Victoria sighed and nodded, leaving the room. Éponine turned back around and put her hands on Enjolras' shoulders. "I'm sorry; she had no right."

Enjolras looked away and shrugged. "What she said was true, you do not have to apologize for that."

Éponine blinked rapidly, trying to clear away her own tears. "I love you," she whispered.

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I love you, too."


	30. The Reason

_**A/N: **__Last full chapter! :( _

_So sad to see this story ending. _

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

* * *

_The Reason_

A month passed and there was no word from the _Amis _still missing. Éponine was starting to think it was all a lie, and she certainly wouldn't put it past the National Guard. Enjolras was slowly progressing. After the first week of him completely shut off from the world, he came back inch by inch. His arm, which had been broken, they had found out, was healing slowly. Amelie seemed to help him a lot; he opened up fully when she was around and was smiling and laughing.

Victoria, on the other hand, went missing two days after she learned the news of her husband's death, leaving Claude behind. Éponine, at first, was not willingly to take care of another woman's child, but Enjolras seemed pleased at having a son. Claude would stay; she just didn't have the heart to give him away, she had realized.

Things were definitely different.

Enjolras lived on edge: he would jump at the slightest noise or wake up from horrid nightmares, screaming, sweating. Éponine did what she could, but there was only so much she was capable of. He was hurting; he would always be hurting.

There were times when Éponine would take the children outside to the pond for a while, just to splash their hands in the water, and he would stay inside. When she brought them back in, she would find his library practically destroyed from one of his tirades. There were times when he would stare off into space during dinner and she would have to bring him back with a light shove. Sometimes, he broke down into tears.

Éponine didn't blame him. There were times she would cry, too.

But, for the most part, things were docile.

One summer evening, a night in the beginning of August, when Enjolras had the children outside near the boathouse, Éponine was inside, folding a few things of laundry. She was content for the first time in awhile; the quietness helped. Just as she was halfway done with Enjolras' shirts, someone knocked on the door.

Éponine sighed and set the shirt down. "I'll get it, Vipond!" She threw open the door and nearly fell down. "Combeferre!"

He put a finger to his lips. "Shhh! Éponine! Do you want to whole world to know?!"

She laughed and threw her arms around his neck. "Yes! Of course, I do!" She let go and stumbled inside. "Enjolras! Rogier, come quick!"

"Éponine, no!" Combeferre slipped into the house and slammed the door behind his back.

Éponine turned around and frowned. "Why on earth would you not want him to know that you're alive? He's been sick with worry ever since we heard from the Guards that someone could still be out there!"

'Ferre pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Things are complicated, Éponine. I am leaving."

"Leaving?" She shook her head. "What do you mean?"

"France. I'm leaving France completely. It's not safe for me. I've been arrested once and I managed to escape. The only reason no one has come to look for Enjolras is because of Courfeyrac."

Éponine put her hand to her lips and took a step back. She put her hand on Combeferre's elbow. "Come with me." She led him into the parlor and shut the French doors behind her. Luckily, as far as she knew, Enjolras had not heard her call since he had not come inside. Once she was positive they were alone, she said, "Explain more please."

Combeferre sighed. "The National Guard – When I escaped at the very end, one of them followed me; I had to.. kill him for fear that he would report me." He swallowed audibly. "I've never had to.." He waved his hands, ending his sentence. "But after him, came another and another and I couldn't kill again; not that close. I ran and ran. Joly was with me, but we lost each other at the edge of town. I spent a week on the edge of town, just listening. They were still looking for me and Joly when I finally decided to come back."

"But you still haven't told me why you don't want Enjolras to know that you're alive?"

"He can't know. It's for the best. Because of what Courfeyrac did they think they have got the leader of _Les Amis. _They're practically done searching for the rest of us. If he were to know that I was alive, and for some odd reason, someone came to your door asking about us, he can no longer be linked to me. I do not want him getting dragged into jail."

Éponine scoffed. "Well, that's lovely of you, but I'm sure that we would work well under pressure. He has done so before. He would never say where you are."

Combeferre nodded. "I am sure that you are correct. I do not want to risk anything." He pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket. The back door opened and both heads turned toward the door. Combeferre's hands began to shake; Éponine put her hand on his. "This – this is where I'll be."

She read the words quickly. "Thank you," she whispered. "I promise. I won't let him know."

The young man kissed her cheek. "Goodbye, Éponine."

Éponine smiled, but held back tears. "Goodbye," she choked, leading him out the front door quickly. "Write me when you get there!"

Combeferre turned around at the end of the front steps. "I will." He smiled with pinched lips, waved his hand stiffly, and then was gone.

Éponine watched his horse ride away until she could no longer see it. She wiped her cheeks and pinched them, then went back inside of the house. Claude, who was now beginning to walk, was waiting behind the door, his hands outstretched.

Éponine laughed and picked him up, setting him on her hip. Enjolras waited at the end of the stairs, eyeing her curiously. "What was that about?" he asked, putting the hand that wasn't currently occupied with Amelie fall to the small of her back. He led them to the dinning room where dinner was waiting.

"It was nothing," Éponine lied, smooth and swift – she had never lost practice.

Enjolras raised his eyebrows and took his seat. "Are you sure?"

"Of course." Éponine rolled her eyes and sat down as well. "Have I ever not told you something worth knowing?" Enjolras opened his mouth to speak, but she put her hand on his. "It was only a woman from the market; she wanted to know if we had any food to donate for a charity and I told her I would get back to her tomorrow."

Enjolras' eyes lit up. "We have enough food. Don't we, Vipond?" He leaned back in his chair.

"Yes, _monsieur._"

"Wonderful! We'll go tomorrow." He smiled brightly, winking at Éponine.

She pursed her lips and frowned, laughing nervously. "Well, I don't see the point in taking the children. It's too crowded. They could get-"

Enjolras waved his hand and pinched Amelie's cheek lightly; she squealed. "Nonsense. It will be perfectly safe with the two of us there." He turned back to her and smirked. "A family outing, _non_?"

Éponine slammed her fork on her plate a little too roughly, sliding her teeth over her tongue in agitation, looking away. "Yes; simply marvelous."

* * *

He had her beat. Éponine suspected that Enjolras must have known that she was lying the night before; he knew her so well. All the same, it was nice to see him banter – even if it was just for a mere second.

So, the next afternoon, the two packed up the children and two boxes of food and headed into town. Éponine (although she had confirmed her suspicion of him knowing her lie) still tried her best to find a stall; she figured she could just drop the food off behind someone, or if worse came to worse, hand it out. Enjolras wouldn't mind that.

It was really the first time he had been out since the rebellion and she could tell he was slightly nervous. He continued to look over his shoulder; though Claude's head was in the way most of the time. Éponine encouraged him with little "It's okay" sort of remarks, or "No one knows." They seemed to calm him down enough.

She finally gave up when Enjolras began to complain about carrying _both _of the children. She confessed to lying and made no move to explain why she had; Enjolras accepted it, still. They decided to drop it off at the local church on the corner. The two switched roles and Enjolras took the boxes and Éponine took the children.

Together, they opened the large doors of the church. Enjolras called out for someone, but there was only the sound of a few nuns rustling around and a priest up in the front, speaking with a man. Éponine sighed and shrugged.

"Just set it down," she suggested.

Enjolras wasn't listening. Éponine put the babies on a bench nearby and gave them a peach to share. She stepped in front of her husband, and though she was shorter than he, she stood on her tiptoes and waved her hand before his eyes. He remained unwavering and did not look at her.

"Enjolras! Hey, what is it?" she asked, getting worried. If he was having an episode, this was _not _the place to do it. Enjolras put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her aside. She huffed and frowned deeply. "_Excuse-moi_! Enjolras, where are you going?"

He kept walking up the aisle at a quickening pace, determined on something up near the alter. Suddenly, he called out, "Alexander," and broke out into a run. The man at the alter turned around and blanched. Éponine cursed and ran after her husband, but she was too slow. He reached Combeferre before the other man knew what to do.

Enjolras grabbed Combeferre and pulled him up into the air in a hug. Combeferre's glasses slid down his nose and he struggled to keep them up while keeping the breath in his lungs. Enjolras sobbed a little and then set him down. He clapped the other man's cheek, smiling through the tears.

"Combeferre!"

Combeferre sighed, yet smiled. "Enjolras, my friend."

His hands fell to the others shoulders. "How – how are you.. alive?"

"I got away," was the simple reply.

"Why didn't you come to the house and tell us?" Enjolras shook his head, confused.

Éponine stepped up behind her husband and put a hand on the back of his arm. She glanced at Combeferre. "He came by yesterday. That's why I was outside."

Enjolras dropped his hands and stared at Éponine. "Why didn't you tell me?" he whispered, not knowing whether to be hurt or not.

"He did not wish it. I promised.."

Enjolras looked back at Combeferre. "I am leaving, this afternoon, Enjolras, to go be somewhere safe. Where no one knows of this."

Enjolras shook his head. "You can't just leave.."

Combeferre nodded. "I can, and I intend to."

"Where are you going?"

Combeferre shook his head.

"Tell me!"

Éponine looked away.

"You're just going to leave?! Just like that?" Enjolras yelled. "After everything.. You cannot do this, Alexander."

"It's for your safety. Well, it was, but now.." He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Ireland. I'm going to Ireland."

Enjolras glanced at Éponine, who was staring at him with wet eyes. "We'll come, too."

No one reacted.

It was silent.

"We'll come, too," he repeated.

"If that is what you wish," Combeferre said, nodding. Inside, he was elated; his closest friend would be there for him, too. Things weren't as bleak at they could have been.

"Yes." Enjolras nodded. "Yes, that is what we wish."

* * *

Éponine had chosen not to argue with her husband. The thought of leaving France did not pain her in the slightest, but she had grown to love the house in which she lived.

It was there that they had spent their wedding night.

It was there they had learned to love one another.

It was there Éponine had lost her sight and become pregnant.

It was there in which hearts were broken and mended.

That house represented _them. _

She did not want to leave it, but she would move heaven and earth to make Enjolras happy, just to be with him. And she knew he would do the same for her.

Lessons had been taught and learned in that house. He had taught her to love, to trust. She had taught him to live, to understand.

So, when they packed the house up, left for Ireland on a whim, and had to say goodbye to their beloved Vipond, Éponine knew that in any house, no matter where they were, lessons would still be learned and love would still cultivatec. They loved each other now; they were made for each other, after all.

The marble man and the shadow.

Yes, Éponine was sure that she could be a teacher of man elsewhere.

Anywhere; as long as he was there, too.

* * *

_Okay. Definitely crying. _

_I want to thank anyone and everyone who ever had anything to do with this story: anyone who reviewed, followed, favorited; read from the beginning or just found this story now. You all mean the world! I am so amazed at the feedback this story got. It's been wonderful. _

_Of course, a __HUGE__ thank you to __**judybear236**__ for being the fabulous beta that she is. Asdfjkl; I love you._

_And last, but not least, thank you to Brittany (__**insignificantramblings**__) for everything that you did to help with this story. You're a gem, darling! (Glad you survived class, by the way.) _

_There will be an epilogue up sometime soon and then I will be beginning my new fic soon as well. Hope to hear from you all again! THANK YOU SO MUCH. _

_Love, Jess_


	31. Epilogue

_**A/N: **__This is it; this is the last instillation to Teacher of Man. Once again, thank you to everyone for your wonderful support!_

_(PS. Sorry if this was a really sucky epilogue. I thought the last chapter ended on a really good note, but I had promised this, so it was difficult to write.)_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**_

* * *

_Epilogue_

Four years had passed since the Enjolrases and Combeferre moved to Ireland. Amelie was four, and Claude six, plus a new little one, Lewiston, who was around one and a half. Enjolras finished his schooling in Ireland after he learned to speak broken Irish and relatively good English (Éponine was much better at both languages than he). After his schooling, he got a job at a local schooling teaching the French language. It wasn't exactly what he'd imagined himself doing, but then again, living in Ireland wasn't really on his life list either.

Combeferre had trouble finding his feet at first. He floated from job to job: he was first a student, and then he helped manage a local bar, and then he finally found a job he enjoyed at the library in town. He lived with the Enjolrases in their moderately sized estate. It wasn't as big at their home in France, but they had found it falling apart and got it for dirt-cheap, taking on the job of the repairs. He lived in what would have been the servant's quarters. Éponine had the most difficulty adjusting.

Because their new house was on the outskirts of town, she had trouble making friends with the neighbors. She was lonely and in a new land, but she made the best of it by teaching the children two who new languages. They took to it as well as she did.

At first, things were stilted. Enjolras had a hard time speaking to Combeferre, feeling slightly betrayed by him planning on leaving without telling Enjolras that he was alive. He was thankful, though, that he did have one of his friends left.

That was until another showed up.

Two years into living in Ireland, there was a knock on the door. Enjolras was painting Claude's room, so Éponine went to the door and opened it, expecting it to be Enjolras' student or Combeferre's "library buddy." She hardly expected to see Joly. They all reunited with tears and much laughter, to the confusion of the children, who laughed along, not wanting to be left out.

Finally things were settling down. Each person had their own reunite and things were wonderful, things were happy. Claude was on his way to becoming a brilliant young man. Enjolras had explained to him how he and Éponine were not Claude's real parents, that his father had died and his mother had run away. The boy took it well and shrugged it off; all he ever remembered was Éponine and Enjolras. Amelie was prim and proper, unlike her mother had not been. She took after Joly, too. She detested bugs and dirt and she often said "germs are bad," much to everyone's amusement. Lewiston, the surprise, was a mixture of loud and content.

One night, as Enjolras and Éponine lay in bed, she whispered, "What would you have done, if we had never been forced into this life?"

Enjolras shifted. "I would have been lost."

She smiled. "Me, too."

Enjolras chuckled and kissed her temple. "Thank you for finding me."

"Thank you for keeping me," she countered.

"I would never give you up."

Éponine wasn't so sure that was the truth, so she kissed him and forgot about it quickly, because she was stupid to think Enjolras would give her up. Through the kiss she remembered their first meeting, how her heart had stopped at how handsome he was. She remembered how when he first spoke she wanted to bust his perfect lips with her fist; how she had lied about where she came from; how, slowly, they had become friends when he found out about his father's assumptions. And then how it all fell into place. Everything was so perfect now.

Everything was the way it should be. Enjolras and Éponine, together with their friends (even though it wasn't all of them), the children.

Éponine grinned and pulled away. She brushed her nose with his. "Enjolras?"

"Hmm.."

"I'm pregnant," she whispered, giggling, for this time it was not a lie.

He sighed, waited for a moment, and then smiled softly. "Heaven help us." And he kissed her again.


End file.
